A Blessed Lifetime
by R-dude
Summary: Throughout his life, Bruce Wayne has often wondered if a single act of selfishness can overshadow a lifetime of self-sacrifice.
1. What Do You See?

High above the Earth, approximately twenty three thousand miles up in geostationary orbit, flies a satellite. It is a satellite like no other, unique in many regards, not the least of which being its configuration, size, armaments, and crew. The official name of this space station is "The Watchtower". Its construction and upkeep is funded mostly by Wayne Enterprises as a publicity stunt, and in part by the UN, though for less savory reasons. The construction of the satellite concluded a scant two months ago, approximately two years since the official formation of the team.

In a special room at the peak of this satellite, nicknamed the "Hall of Justice", the members of the Justice League confer. In this room, the most powerful group on the face of the Earth meets biweekly to discuss important matters in privacy. The Justice League is comprised by the alien known as Superman, the vigilante known as Batman, the Amazon who goes by Wonder Woman, the Green Lantern of space sector 2814, the King of Atlantis, Aquaman, a kid whose body is now more machine than man, Cyborg, and Barry "the Flash" Allen, protector of Central City.

After months of cooperation, these seven trust no one more than each other. From the beginning, leadership among them always gravitated towards the trinity, capital 'T'. Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman are the backbone of the Justice League, and they have shown extremely positive results when working together.

Anyone familiar with the Batman will note the oxymoron of putting 'Batman' in the same sentence with words such as 'trust' and 'teamwork'. The delicious irony is not lost on the other six, who are not new to the Batman's attitude. They know, however, that no one can deny his dedication to the team. Especially when all they have to do to see the results of it is look around them. Over the years, the group of superheroes have come to consider each other friends, even if Batman doesn't admit it.

That is not to say that partnership with the Batman goes smoothly, despite the positive results. It takes time to get used to his no-nonsense, direct to the point of rudeness attitude. He rarely speaks of anything other than business. One thing he has made very clear, however, is that he expects each and every one of them to "stay out of Gotham City".

This insistence has caused no small amount of frustration and confusion among Batman's self-proclaimed friends, who see him struggling alone against an endless tide of crime while stubbornly refusing any help. All six members deal with it in their own way. Some take Batman's words to heart and focus on their own territory, trusting that if Batman ever truly requires help, he will ask for it. Others, well…

It is a general rule that one does not push the Batman. Ever. This week's meeting, however, has many surprises in store.

* * *

**What Do You See?**

* * *

"…but it turned out to be just some whales. Yeah, sorry about that." Arthur Curry, King of Atlantis, gives a sheepish grin as he apologizes for the false alarm that had brought the entire League to mobilization. Groans and jeers followed his statement, some by Flash, some by Green Lantern, but most by the football spectators that Green Lantern just formed with his ring, all around the round table.

"Aw man! I had to ditch a hot date to—" Green Lantern's frustrated statement is cut off by Superman, ever the mediator.

"I'm sure Arthur will be more careful in the future, right, Arthur?" The Atlantean King nods his head, embarrassment forgotten and spectators dissolved.

"Are there any other matters to be discussed?" The Amazon princess' clear, regal voice restores everyone's attention to the matter at hand.

"Not that I can think of. We've covered this month's maintenance and expenses." The Kryptonian says. He turns to Cyborg. "Victor?"

"I'm not picking up anything of note on the net." The ever-connected cyborg replies.

"If that will be all, I suggest we adjourn this meeting. I have work to do. We'll reconvene in two weeks." The Batman's cool baritone is, as always, devoid of any feeling. He waits for no confirmation, instead immediately rising from his chair to leave the room.

"Wait, Batman." Superman's voice stops Batman a few meters from the door. He turns and looks at Superman expectantly, a frown on his face.

"I just wanted to say that…" An awkward pause. "I mean, we've all seen the news. About the recent wave of crime in Gotham."

"Gotham has had storms like this before. It will pass." His tone is deeper and carries an air of warning.

"We can help, Batman. Things are rough right now, the League should be able to deal with whatever the problem is." Superman knows Batman, he knows that he will refuse, and he can't help but let the frustration color his voice.

The Batman regards him for a few seconds, utters a single, "No," and turns back toward the door. He is stopped by the voice of an angry Amazon.

"People are dying in Gotham! Why do you refuse help that you need? The League can help in Gotham just like in any other city."

Batman only turns his head to bring Wonder Woman into his line of sight.

"This is not a negotiation. This is a rule, my _only_ rule. Stay out of Gotham, or there _will_ be consequences. Not the least of which will be the immediate withdrawal of my membership and funding from the League." With that parting statement, he walks out the door.

Never one to back down from a challenge, the Amazon jumps to her feet angrily and follows after him, yelling at him to wait.

The doors close, and the rest of the superheroes look at each other awkwardly. Flash breaks the silence, whistling.

"Well, that could have gone better," is Flash's statement.

"Ya think?" is Hal Jordan's sarcastic retort.

"I'm sure Batman is fully aware of the situation in his city, and we should probably trust his judgment." King Arthur has no special love for Batman. Respect, however, he has in spades.

"Yeah, you're right, Arthur. Well, that's it for this week, people. Let's hit the cafeteria. The supply shuttle just arrived yesterday." Superman's statement is met with approval and cheer, as the group of superheroes exits the Hall of Justice.

Kal-El puts a hand on Barry Allen's shoulder. "Not you, Barry. Someone needs to mind the monitors."

"…You suck."

**_~W~_**

Batman's crisp walk has already brought him halfway to the Transporter Room by the time Diana catches up to him.

"Wait already!" she exclaims as she grabs his hand and turns him around forcibly. He stares at her, then down at her hand still gripping his. Slowly, his other hand takes the offending appendage and extricates it from his own hand.

"What do you want?"

"Why won't you let us in Gotham? Innocent people need help. Let us help. Let _me_ help."

"Not this again, Princess." His pet name for her carries none of the humor or flirtatiousness that it usually does. That, if nothing else, is a sure sign of his annoyance.

He turns and starts walking again.

"This is not up for debate. Stay out of Gotham."

"Bruce, stop. Wait." He freezes. By calling him that, she is cashing in on their mutual chemistry, and last two years of on-and-off flirting, in order to get a serious discussion. It is a gamble, but she is willing to take the odds.

He turns again, he seems to be doing that a lot today.

"Speak, _Diana_." She doesn't flinch at his tone. She is an Amazon, and she will show no weakness in front of a man.

"I understand that you have trouble trusting meta-humans, but surely you don't think that we'd be detrimental to the city. It's not like the criminals will fear you any less if we take down some of them or save a few people." Her frustration is nearly overwhelming her. Why won't this stubborn…_man_ accept her help?

"The city needs to see that Batman and the GCPD can take care of things. Outside help will hinder that. Besides, this is as much for your protection as theirs. Gotham is a rough place, Princess. Leave it to me."

Maybe he does not mean to anger her, but he's doing a damn fine job of it.

"So that's it? We're too _weak_ to deal with Gotham's villains? What would Harley Queen do against Superman? What chances would Poison Ivy or Penguin have against me? Oh, I'm sure Two-Face would have no trouble dealing with Green Lantern, right? Don't underestimate us!"

If he were a lesser man, the Batman would have been intimidated by the angry Amazon's tirade. As it is, he just shakes his cowled head.

"You don't understand how Gotham works. You don't understand its criminals." She has heard this all before, and she won't have any of it.

"Bruce, I respect all the work you're doing for your city. You are the most capable warrior I have seen in Patriarch's World. But you are just one man. Let us help, and we can do so much more." She knows that she has made a mistake by the immediate frown that forms on his face, by the way his posture goes rigid for half a second. She curses to herself. This is not how this was supposed to go. Batman regards her for a few moments, and she meets his gaze defiantly, though she says nothing.

"You won't give this up, will you?" She isn't sure what he's trying to ascertain with this question, but she does know her answer to it.

"No."

Eventually: "Alright." This catches even the proud Amazon off guard, and for a moment she looks lost, which Batman's incredible mind idly notes is incredibly cute.

"_Alright_? You mean-"

"I will make you a bet." _Oh_. This is slightly less outrageous than the notion of him just accepting her help, but only _just_.

"A bet? _You_?" Apparently, he doesn't share her mirth at him doing something so uncharacteristic.

"Yes. Follow me." And his crisp walk resumes, this time to a different direction than before. Diana follows him, unsure of the situation. She is still unaware of many things in Patriarch's World, and this man in particular is a walking, breathing paradox to her. She has made no secret of her attraction to him over the months. Although he keeps rebuffing her subtle advances in equally subtle ways, she is an immortal blessed by Artemis, the goddess of the hunt herself. She, too, enjoys hunting. Plus, she is certain the attraction is not one-sided, though they never let it interfere with missions.

Her musings of the black-clad enigma are interrupted by the hissing sound of a reinforced door opening. Batman leads the way into… "The training room?" she asks, incredulous. "What is this bet you spoke of?"

Batman unclasps his flowing cape from his shoulders and hangs it up near some equipment. He removes his cowl and places it with the cape. Though now devoid of the Batman visage, his handsome face is no less steely. His serious expression helps her ignore the fluttering in her stomach and focus on the present. He walks to the center of the room, and turns to look at her. He cuts an impressive figure, even without his cape. _Especially_ without the bulky cape. With his skintight Kevlar and after many months of generally being around him, she knows his body is the embodiment of physical perfection.

"If you can take me down, you have my permission to come to Gotham and do as you please. You have ten minutes."

"What? This is a bad idea Bruce, I don't want to hurt you." This time, she is the one shaking her head. _Of all the stupid things to—_

"If _I_ take you down or the ten minutes pass, you never ask again." It's like he didn't hear her.

"Bruce, this is a bad idea. I could kill you." She really doesn't want to hurt him, and though he impresses her every time they are in the field with his technique and quick wits, he is still just a mortal.

"Are you scared, Princess?" he taunts her. _Taunts_ her! She is Diana of Themyscira, and will be taunted by no mere man.

"You asked for this, remember that."

"The ten minutes start now," is his dry reply.

She wastes no time in closing the distance between them, and aims a hard punch directly to his jaw. He deftly flicks her hand to the right with his left, making her miss. A lesser fighter would have stumbled, but she just draws her fist back and blocks his own strike towards her face. She aims another punch, this time to his gut. They exchange strikes and blocks for a few seconds, seemingly at an impasse.

Suddenly, Bruce lets out a noise of frustration. Diana is surprised to see him grab her left hand at the wrist and twist it. She is forced to turn along with the movement, and this brings her jaw into perfect position for Bruce's vicious punch. With a crack, she is thrown backwards a few feet from the force of the strike.

She jumps back to her feet and glares at him as she rubs her jaw. He glares right back, ignoring the slight pain in his knuckles, even through the gauntlet.

"Stop holding back!" he hisses at her angrily.

"Bruce, I really don't want to hurt you. You know how strong I am." Even though her jaw aches, she is all too aware of the damage she can inflict on mortals. She hesitates to put her inhuman strength behind her blows.

Bruce shakes his head in disappointment. "You keep underestimating me. That is a mistake." He unclasps his utility belt and throws it aside, holding up a single, normal batarang and a small metallic sphere, which looks like one of his smoke bombs.

"This is all I will need to take you down," he says, with absolute confidence.

Diana's attraction to him is a fact. Her hesitance to hurt him is also a fact. None of them matter as she tries to process this. What an insult! He would discard his vast arsenal and claim to be able to take her down without it? She is Diana of Themyscira, Princess of the Amazons and blessed by the Olympian gods. This insult will not go unanswered.

"Have it your way. But if you forsake your main weapon, I will do the same." With that said, she removes her Lasso of Truth and sets it aside. Her glare would make petty criminals wet themselves, Bruce, is sure. She draws her sword and attacks him.

He is no stranger to swordfights. His scallops can easily withstand the force of the sword, and the batarang on his right hand can also block it. After a few blocked swipes and jabs, he manages to block the sword with his left gauntlet at just the right angle to bring his right arm crashing down on the flat of her blade. Although the blade doesn't snap, it does crack where Batman struck it.

Diana disengages and looks at her blade. With a snarl, she tosses it aside. Bruce motions for her to attack him. She doesn't disappoint.

**~W~**

Meanwhile, in the cafeteria, the remaining members of the Justice League are deep in conversation. Superman and Cyborg are talking in quiet tones while Hal and Arthur are exchanging stories of their conquests and laughing loudly.

Suddenly, Flash blurs into existence between them.

"Batman's fighting Wonder Woman!" With that said in the span of a single second, he vanishes again, back toward the Monitor Womb.

Conversation ceases. The heroes look at one another. Superman vanishes in the blink of an eye, already at the Monitor Womb. Seconds later he is joined by the rest of the team. Flash brings up the camera feed from the Training Room to various terminals around them. They show Batman, sans cape, belt, and cowl, holding off an angry Wonder Woman with a sword, and promptly cracking it.

Flash whistles. "I got ten on Wondy."

"Twenty," Hal joins in.

Superman sighs dramatically. "Well then, I guess it can't be helped. Fifty says Bruce wins."

Hal looks at him, incredulously. "Seriously? She looks really pissed. I think Bruce is in for a world of pain." Superman shakes his head at this.

"You don't know Batman like I do. I just hope he doesn't hurt her too much." With that, everyone turns their attention back to the monitor.

**~W~**

As Diana lunges at him with the speed of Hermes, Bruce hides the batarang and sphere in his gauntlet. In her fury, she fails to see his slight smirk. _Just as planned_.

This time when Diana attacks, it is much less one-sided. Bruce's technique remains vastly superior, but a single direct hit will be enough to, at best, knock him out. He is forced to parry all of her blows, knowing that if he takes even an indirect hit there will be broken bones. Any type of hold where she has leverage to use her strength is also out of the question.

He knows that at this rate he will tire and make a mistake long before the ten minutes are up. As time passes, Diana's rage gives way to the calm and collected fighting style being raised an Amazon gave her, and she will soon manage a blow that will either break a bone or slow him down.

Thankfully, he plans to take her down long before that. As Diana comes at him again he steps backwards, grabs her extended arm and pulls her towards him. Immediately he steps to the side and trips her. She manages to turn her fall into a roll, just as any decent fighter should. He can see it in her eyes, the thrill of a good fight. She knows he can't evade her forever, she believes she is slowly cornering him.

Time to correct her.

She suddenly uncoils from her crouched position and flies toward him, intending to slam him to the wall behind him. He deftly avoids her by rolling to the side, retrieving the tiny metal sphere while he does it.

He aims and throws in the second it takes for Diana to turn toward him. The sphere is directly aimed at her face, but she feels no fear against a smoke bomb. It will buy him maybe three seconds, and then she'll be on him again.

She sees Bruce tightly close his eyes, and understands what is about to happen a split-second too late to react to it.

The flash-bang goes off right in front of her eyes, blinding her in its white light. The disorientation is immediate, her ears ringing so badly that she loses awareness of up and down, while her vision is completely gone. Disoriented as she is, she feels Bruce yank her forward and sweep her feet from under her. Head swimming, she slams down hard, face-first, on the rough metal floor and feels Bruce's weight settle on her back.

Just as her senses reorient themselves, she feels a series of flashes of pain, which she recognizes as slashes from a sharp object. His batarang! She feels slashes at the tendons of her feet, similar slashes on muscles on her thighs and shoulder blades, while both her arms are twisted behind her back and pulled to a painful hold. All of this happens in the span of three seconds.

Now able to see and hear again, she tries to apply her vastly superior strength to escape from his hold. All she accomplishes is a stab of pain at the slashed muscle of her shoulder, leading to her arm. Her other hand yields the same result.

She is red in the face, but it is neither from exhaustion nor the pain. The sheer humiliation of being beaten by a mortal man and held down is almost too much for the proud Amazon.

Though his hold of her hands is almost painful, it is the feeling of his taut body pressed firmly against her backside, holding her in place, that is making her face flush. There is a rush of heat, one she will never admit is anything more than anger at her humiliation. Nevertheless, she is suddenly very thankful that she is facing the floor.

"H-how?" Speaking from such a position is hard, even for her. Though her pain threshold is high, she is aware that he could dislocate both of her shoulders or even break her arms at his leisure.

"I have studied you, Princess." He breathes in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "I have watched your battles. Your invulnerability is not physical like Superman's. Yours has its source in your gods, and it has certain things that trigger it. Blunt force trauma, for one. It is why you shrug off such powerful blows. Extreme temperatures also trigger it. Projectile weapons increase your reflexes so you can deflect them with your bracers, but you have no defense against piercing weapons, such as knives and swords. Or the sharp edge of a batarang."

He moves slightly, pressing more of his weight against her in order to safely free one of his hands, now holding both of hers on his left, between their two bodies. Even through the pain, the heat on her face and nether region intensifies.

"You also have a high healing factor. From past injuries, I estimate that it will take another thirty-six seconds for these cuts to heal, and you can freely use your strength again. So…" He brings his free hand to her neck, and taps her carotid artery with the edge of the batarang. This signals the end of their fight, with Diana the 'dead' person.

He slowly releases her hands and eases off of her. He gets on his feet and watches with hidden fascination as her skin knits itself back together. She slowly brings her hands back forward, obviously in pain.

He cannot help but feel a twinge of guilt about hurting her. He offers his hand to help her up, but she slaps it away and rises on her own. Flushed and beat-red, she looks angrily at him. She is probably angrier at herself for falling for his tricks, he thinks.

After a tense silence during which she reigns herself in, she bites out, "You know this strategy won't work on me twice, don't you?"

He does.

"I have others," he says, his voice showing none of what he feels.

"Of course you do." She sighs. Now that she's had a few seconds to cool down, she can't be angry with him anymore. She lost because she got careless and assumed he would use a smoke bomb, since he likes them so much. It was no one's fault but her own. He had won the bet. Hera, he'd probably planned this whole fight step by step. If nothing else, she can, and will, respect that. She vows to herself never to underestimate Batman ever again.

**~W~**

Back in the Monitor Womb, speculation is heavy.

"Ok, how did he do that?" the sole Atlantean of the team asks. It is Superman who explains why the screens suddenly went blank, as if the signal was lost.

"Batman's flashbangs emit a low-powered EMP that disables camera devices in the nearby vicinity. I've seen it at work before."

"Well, he's the one paying for it." Victor says, shrugging.

"So ... who won?" Hal Jordan asks in mirth. This is the most fun he's had in the Watchtower since ...well, ever.

"Hang on, let me check." Superman's eyes gain the distinctive blue hue of his X-ray vision. It is only his perfect control of every single muscle in his body that keeps his face blank, but he can hardly suppress the faint flush on his cheeks.

"Batman won. Definitely." He coughs awkwardly, immediately cancelling his X-ray vision.

Though he could do without the image, he just won money, so he supposes he should thank his two friends for their impromptu fight. Hal and Barry's groans as they hand over the money is music to his ears, and he smiles.

**~W~**

Batman returns to his discarded equipment. He fastens his utility belt, puts on the cowl and snaps his cape in place. He looks at her, but she is staring ahead, almost unseeing.

He hesitates for a few seconds, but eventually heads toward the door. "Stay out of Gotham." He means for these to be his parting words, but it is not meant to be.

"Bruce…" Her soft voice stops him in his tracks. It is a tone he has never before heard from her. She usually exudes confidence and strength. It is one of the many reasons he likes her as much as he does. But this time, she sounds defeated, uncertain about herself.

"Why…why won't you let me help you? I…I thought…" His heart stirs at that. She is taking his refusal personally. She thinks he doesn't want her help, she doesn't understand why he does what he does.

His analytical mind takes it all in. The situation, her probable thoughts, his own thoughts and emotions, and in the span of two seconds he makes a decision. It is the best he can think of.

"Diana…" She turns to look at him, but he is still facing the door, away from her. "…if you want to understand…come with me." With that, he opens the doors and leaves. There is no doubt in his mind that she will follow him.

She does, and soon they have reached a room adjacent to the training room. It is a room designed to take the form of different environments and places using a combination of holograms and mind manipulation.

For Batman's needs, the holographic services will be enough.

"What are we doing here, Bruce?" she asks as he begins furiously typing at the control terminal.

"I'm going to show you Gotham," he says cryptically. He gives her a sideways glance. "You will not like it. Clark did not like it when I had to show him what I'm about to show you." With that, he presses the final key and the room starts changing, blue holographic lights slowly taking the shape of the program Batman selected.

"What you need to understand is that the supercriminals in Gotham are not your usual fare. They are not people who you can just find and beat up, like Giganta or Cheetah or Metallo. They are psychotic and calculating murderers and mobsters. You will need evidence to bring in Penguin and Two-Face, which is not easy to come by. You can't just beat them up and deliver them to the station. They will even sue you if you do that.

"Then there are the truly sick types. The types that leave a bloody trail of death behind them while never showing their face. Joker, Zsasz, Deadshot, Croc, Riddler, and many others. Speaking of Riddler…"

By now the room has finished transforming. Diana looks around and sees a very strange room. It is wide, probably a warehouse. Over by the opposite end, a man is tied up and hangs from the ceiling. Strange machinery fills the building.

"What is this?" she asks, uncertain.

"This is one of Riddler's usual tricks. This particular room I had to face three weeks ago. There is the hostage over there. What do you do?" His question is tricky, she is sure.

"I go and untie him. I cannot just leave him there!"

"You just stepped on a pressure sensitive tile on the floor. The hostage is dead within four seconds. Try again."

Diana scrunches up her face in thought and looks to the ground in surprise. She looks around the room, this time noticing several booby traps. By how obvious they are, she guesses they are just decoys for the real thing.

"I would fly over and help him."

"A decent guess. On your way there you activate motion sensors four and six. The hostage is dead and poisonous fumes flood the room. Try again."

"Break in from the ceiling?"

"Hostage dead before you get to him."

"Cut the rope from a distance?"

"Same problem with flying, only the hostage falls on electrified floor and dies faster. Any more guesses?" She looks around the booby trapped room wildly, her eyes finally settling on Bruce. He had solved this?

"This is one of Riddler's many death traps. He is better than the others, in the sense that if I solve his riddles I can usually save everyone. That is not the case with people like the Joker, but if I don't try even more people die. These are not enemies who fight you head-on Diana. It takes a certain kind of person to operate in Gotham."

"Like you?"

"Yes."

"But not like me?"

"No."

She is reluctant to give up.

"Even still Bruce, I'm sure we could help somehow."

"Stop. You still don't understand," he says, and goes back to the terminal. His fingers fly over the keys, loading a new script. Diana can barely hear his next words as the room changes around her. "I'm sorry for this." She doesn't have the time to contemplate what he means, because she _sees_ it.

Diana's hands fly to her mouth in horror. It is a room, wide and high, and empty save for a few old boxes. And the blood. Blood is everywhere. On the walls, all over the floor, even the ceiling is splashed. Pieces of gore are strewn about. Between organs, intestines and bones, the biggest part is probably a piece of a small head with blond hair on it, now matted down with blood. A sole boot lies among the gore.

"What in Hera…what is this?" The horror in her voice is mixed with disbelief, like she can't believe how this can be possible.

"This…is all that remains of Anastasia Connor, age 13. She was found like this two months ago. Tell me, what do you see?"

She doesn't understand his question. What is there to see, besides the horror of this world's injustice? Besides the realization that there are monsters in this world just as bad if not worse than Hades' demons?

"Why…why are you showing me this?" She tears her eyes away from the gruesome sight, instead focusing on Bruce's stern face. Her eyes are wide, her breathing rugged.

"What do you see?" he repeats. She can't stand to look again.

"I see death, crime, injustice. I see that someone will pay dearly for this." The rage in her voice is unmistakable. "What do _you_ see?" she snaps back at him.

His gaze is unforgiving as he surveys the room.

"Evidence."

"…_What?" She must have heard wrong. She must._

"Look at the boot. Stuck underneath it is a piece of a rare flower that can only be found on the south side of the Gotham Botanical Gardens. She must have been grabbed around there. The dirt and water on the boot suggest she was taken down to the sewers. This room itself is underground. A closer examination of the victim's hair yields saliva. A DNA scan identifies him as Waylon Jones. Killer Croc." He says all this in his usual unemotional voice.

Diana gets his point. She froze, he didn't. While she was lamenting the loss of life, he had already figured out the perpetrator, and a possible place to find him.

"Did you catch this monster?"

"I did. Jones has a condition that's turning him into a human-crocodile hybrid. It gets progressively worse, to the point where he is more animal than man."

"Please…stop this." He understands and shuts down the program. Diana is hugging herself, trying to free her mind from images of the mutilated girl. Batman knows that she will have nightmares about it, and he is sorry that he had to do it.

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her towards him in a rare show of compassion. Diana grips his armored chest tightly, trying to wrap her mind around it all and fighting back tears. What does this mean for Gotham? What does this mean for Bruce?

"You are a good woman, Diana," he says softly, "and a great hero. But Gotham isn't for you. I've no doubt that you and Superman could help, but it would change you. In ways that you should never change. You have enough responsibilities as it is. Leave Gotham to me."

There is nothing for her to do other than nod her head. She now understands what Bruce was trying to say. It is clear now. When Bruce says 'Gotham is my city' he isn't simply being possessive. He claims responsibility for it, he bears the entire burden of its horrors alone, except for his small band of similarly-minded helpers, so that others won't have to go through what he does.

If possible, her respect for him rises. She does not completely agree, but she finally understands. And she will respect his wishes.

"I'm sorry…for pushing you to do this. I know you didn't want to." He stiffens at her words, but says nothing.

Composure fully regained, she extricates herself from his arms. She doesn't doubt that, later on in the evening, she'll be horrified, embarrassed, and at the same time thrilled at how…close they got, throughout all this. She now understands Bruce Wayne better than she did before, so she'll take this as a victory. If anyone can pull Gotham out of the darkness, it will be him and his family of Bats.

"Thank you, Bruce. I'll see you around, yes?" Giving him a small, sickly smile, she turns to leave. She has a lot to think about.

His calling out her name stops her just as she has reaches the door. The irony is not lost on her. She turns her head to look at him, recognizing the small smile on his face.

"You are welcome to visit Gotham…off-duty." She doesn't let her surprise show, mainly because she is too numb to feel it, yet. _Did he just…?_

"But I've never been to Gotham for a social visit. I wouldn't know the first place to go." His smirk only widens at her playful tone.

"I'm sure something can be arranged. It is only proper that I show you around, after all."

A brilliant smile brightens up her face. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Mister Wayne."

She leaves the room, grinning ear to ear.

* * *

**~W~**

**~W~**

**~W~**

Disclaimer: All the characters, organizations and places mentioned are the property of DC Comics and associates. I claim no ownership or profits from this work of fiction.

Acknowledgements: All must pay homage to our Lord and Master, Dinasis. Go read his stuff, and pester him for updates.

Notes: This story is mostly based on The New 52 comic series. Though the backgrounds of the characters are as redefined on The New 52 event, I reserve the right to use situations, characters and places from other media, such as video-games, movies, TV-series or previous comics that have since been retconned, branded non-canon, or otherwise deleted. Also expect a heavy dose of AU wherever I feel it is necessary.

Though I'm using the team roster from the New 52 _Justice League_, I can't in good conscience recommend that anyone reads that particular comic.

In fact,_ don't_.


	2. Wayne Manor

**Wayne Manor**

* * *

The Stately Wayne Manor, more often referred to simply as "Wayne Manor", was originally designed and constructed by Nathan Van Derm for one Darius Wayne. The Victorian style building complex lies just outside Gotham City proper, in an area called Palisades. It is an impressive building both in architectural grace and historical significance, having served as the main residence and base of operations for the Wayne family for many generations. The manor itself is surrounded by gardens and grounds. The building is constructed to resemble a stylized 'W' when looked at from above or, more often, as a blueprint.

Interestingly, Wonder Woman notes as she flies towards it clad in her usual ensemble, the grounds are formed in such a way around the manor that, when combined with the manor's unique shape, bear a very close resemblance to a bat, provided the beholder is at a high enough altitude. She personally knows nothing about the manor's history, but she imagines that Bruce's ancestors couldn't have known about their descendant's destiny as a bat-themed protector of the innocent. It is all quite odd, she admits to herself. The massive cave system full of bats that she heard Kal mention, the resemblance of the manor itself to a bat, Bruce's fear of bats that inspired him to don a costume in their image and adopt their mannerisms. Divine intervention, coincidence, or logical progression of events?

It is quite amusing, she thinks, to see Batman reply 'because bats scare me' when asked the age old question of 'why a bat?' It never gets old. Of course, the most likely reply anyone outside of their team would receive to that question is an ice-cold glare. No journalist is brave enough to ask, after the first time someone did.

All these thoughts vacate her consciousness as she gently lands outside the Manor's perimeter gates, wanting to respect the owner's property and disliking the thought of appearing rude on her very first visit. New as she is to Patriarch's World, she wants to take no chances with this one.

She examines the weird console underneath what she has come to recognize as a high-tech security camera. She presses its biggest button, and hears a faint buzzing. No more than ten seconds later, an elderly voice with an accent she has heard before but can't place sounds from the machine.

"Miss Wonder Woman, welcome to Wayne Manor. Please proceed through the gate." As he says this, the massive gates with the golden 'W' on them separate, the 'W' itself now two different 'V', and open to allow her passage. Walls being no deterrent to one gifted with flight from the god Hermes himself, nevertheless she feels she made a smart decision.

As she walks toward the looming Victorian building, she considers how she came to be here.

It has been barely three weeks since that day. The meeting, the bet, the fight and the holographic display, she remembers it all like it was yesterday. The image of the little girl torn to pieces and strewn all over an underground room haunted her for a week before she finally prayed to her gods for release. She was not disappointed, the nightmares immediately subsided. She is not weak of will, nor new to battles or death. But preparing for such things as the mindless butchering of innocents, of _children_, is in no way a part of Amazonian training. No amount of years on Themysciran training grounds could have prepared her for what Bruce showed her. And it is only the tip of the iceberg that is Gotham, she is sure.

However, that day was not a total loss, not at all. She gained valuable insights into the mind of her teammate, Batman. She understood his bond to his city, and finally has a decent explanation as to his dislike of others joining him in his crusade against its darkness.

Through it all, she had managed to glean a promise from him to spend time together outside of League business. She has no doubt that a large part of why he invited her was pity and guilt. She has no delusions as to how pitiful she must have looked, nearly in tears and almost incoherent. Bruce, being who he is, naturally blamed himself for getting her in that state, so he tried to compensate with something he knew she wanted. Though it shames her endlessly to have shown weakness in front of a man, especially _this_ man, she cannot argue with the results.

Pity or not, guilt-ridden or not, a promise was a promise, and she had intended to collect as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, a flurry of activity had taken the Justice League by storm, its members dividing into teams and deploying all over the world. The League's rising popularity and ever advancing systems allowed for a more coherent view of the world's needs, and it is a tall order indeed.

In the times Wonder Woman was paired with Batman, a change in their dynamic became apparent. Though they still occasionally exchanged mild flirting just as before, their relationship had changed, and they both knew it. Still nowhere near the incredible dynamic between Superman and Batman, born of years of cooperation outside the League, their teamwork was, nevertheless, vastly improved. Both Wonder Woman and Batman being very independent individuals used to working alone, their new effectiveness as a team was nothing short of impressive.

Taking this as a good sign, Diana had approached Bruce after the next general meeting before he managed to vanish again, as he was wont to do. Swallowing her momentary hesitation and inwardly scoffing at it, she reminded Batman that he owes her a tour of Gotham, off-duty. His demeanor never changed, and his face remained expressionless as ever, but he had still accepted what she said as true. He informed her that he would see about freeing one of his evenings to show her around, and that he'd notify her the following day. Business finished, he was off to the Transporter Room and Diana let him go, a smile on her face.

Upon returning to her apartment in London the next day, she was only vaguely surprised to find a message from Bruce Wayne on her answering machine. She did not even bother wondering how he got her number, since she had given it to literally no one. She had a League communicator, so the telephone was practically useless to her. The message was not in Bruce's voice, though it contained the coordinates of Wayne Manor, and extended an invitation set for a few days later.

So here she is, outside Batman's home, unsure of what to expect but certainly willing to find out. She refuses to call this a date, even in her mind. Batman certainly doesn't see it as such, so she won't, either. Dating, now there's a concept that confuses the hell out of her in its simplicity. Coming from a society of immortal warriors vehemently supporting that all things bad exist in the form of men, it was quite a shock to her to see that the notion of relationships is not only allowed, it's in fact the norm. In hindsight, she supposes that it'd be hard for a society that _doesn't_ comprise exclusively of ever-youthful women to survive without procreation between the two genders. She scowls as she remembers that Amazons do, in fact, procreate, and that their way is much more fatal towards the male participants and much more hypocritical, considering their supposed views. This hypocrisy shames her even now, since she calls herself an Amazon, one of them.

Returning her thoughts to Patriarch's World, she remembers how she was even more shocked to discover that some people make it their business to find out details about who _other_ people, complete strangers, are seeing in their own private time. It confused Diana at first, and it still does now. She had, inevitably, become aware of exactly what 'dating' meant. She'd lost count of the time people had asked her whether she was dating Superman, what it was like dating Superman, or many variations and combinations of these two questions. Though she would readily agree to herself that she would not be averse to 'dating' Bruce, she knows this is not it. It is a start. Perhaps a challenge would be a better word for it, she thinks. A challenge with the possibility of eventual 'dating' as the prize. The fact that Bruce allowed, even _invited_, her to try her hand at this challenge excites her.

As the entirety of the Amazons could attest to, she takes to challenges quite well.

The walk up to the entrance of the manor is pleasant, the gardens around the road being in very good care. Climbing the few stairs to the grand doorway, she knocks, taking care not to dent or break anything and completely missing the fully functional doorbell button beside it.

The door is opened by a balding man who appears to be in his fifties, smartly dressed. He holds the door open until she walked in, and closes it behind her, then proceeds to bow respectfully.

"Greetings, Wonder Woman. What brings you to Wayne Manor this fine evening?" His voice is smooth and pleasant, with a distinctive accent that she now recognizes as British.

"Please, call me, Diana. I am here to visit Bruce Wayne, has he not informed you of such?"

"I am Alfred Pennyworth, Master Bruce's butler, but please call me Alfred, your Highness. Indeed, Master Bruce instructed me to expect your presence tonight. I was simply going through the motions. If you would follow me?" Alfred waits for her nod of approval before leading the way further into the manor.

Going through the majestic building, she can't help but compare it to her mother's palace in Themyscira. It's a fair bit smaller, and a lot less bright, but it certainly has an atmosphere of royalty and grandeur.

"Hey, Alfred, I heard the—whoa!" A young boy, no older than sixteen, had come out of a door from the corridor they were walking in. His black hair is relatively short and unkempt. His physique, for a boy his age, is impressive. He stands frozen at the half opened door, gazing at Wonder Woman.

"Master Jason, if you are _quite_ done staring," Alfred says in an admonishing, irritated tone. The teen tears his eyes away from Wonder Woman and looks embarrassedly at Alfred. "This is Diana of Themyscira. Your highness, this is Jason Peter Todd."

"Well met, Mister Todd." Jason shakes her hand, and rubs the back of his head.

"Call me Jason, Mister Todd is just awkward."

"Very well, Jason."

"Guess this is why the old man cancelled all his stuff tonight, huh?"

"Quite. Do you require anything, Master Jason?"

Still stealing glances at Wonder Woman, the boy replies, "Not really, just wanted to let you know that I will be…downstairs."

"I will bring you lunch at the usual time, then. Expect a visit from Miss Gordon sometime in the afternoon." He turns to Diana, "Follow me, your Highness. Master Bruce's study is this way."

She pretends not to notice Jason's glances at areas below head-level, or severely below head-level once her back is turned. She's had worse, and really he's just so cute, flustered like that. It's not like her armor doesn't invite such looks. It posed no problem on Themyscira, but Patriarch's World's main attribute, namely the presence of men, presented new problems for her admittedly small wardrobe. Said wardrobe comprises of her Wonder Woman armor, a few sets of heavy-duty plate armors and a few Amazonian chitons for everyday use.

Alfred offers historical trivia of this item and that as they go through the manor and Diana realizes how much she had underestimated its size. She has no doubt that if Alfred left her here, her only option as to getting out would be punching through walls in a straight line until she got outside. Suits of armor, massive paintings, sharp-looking weapons, and impressive wallpapers cover the stone walls. He takes care to introduce her to the Ballroom, for a room like that can only be said with a capital 'B'. Though the lights are off in the huge room, Diana has no trouble at all imagining it full of partying guests, an orchestra and a stage.

Eventually Alfred leads her to a grand wooden door. Emblazoned on it, shockingly, is an intricate 'W'. Alfred opens the door, stands on the threshold and announces their presence.

"Master Bruce, your guest has arrived. Princess Diana is here." He moves aside, letting her enter. She does, and takes a quick look around.

It is a spacious room, filled with warm brown and red colors. Impressive libraries line the walls on her left and right, while the wall opposite her is only glass, giving ample view of the grounds. On the wall of the far left corner a large grandfather clock sits, though the hands aren't moving. Odd. Behind a large mahogany desk and sifting through papers is Bruce Wayne. He is wearing a crisp black business suit, complete with tie and shiny black shoes. His hair, instead of wind-tussled as it usually appears, is slicked back in style, not a single hair out of place.

Her breath hitches in her chest. Though she has seen him unmasked before, this is the first time she has seen him look so…normal. Though she can plainly see him for who he is, the absence of the Batman costume in lieu of said business suit makes him appear much more approachable and, dare she think it, _desirable_.

Seeing them, he abandons his papers, stands up, and moves around the desk.

"Thank you, Alfred. You may go." Though his words are dismissive and unemotional as usual, he nods to the butler in thanks.

"Certainly, Master Bruce. I shall have the car ready for later." With that, Alfred bows slightly and walks out, closing the door behind him.

"Hello, Bruce, you have a lovely home," she addresses him. He offers her something reminiscent of a smile as he leads her to a pair of armchairs by one corner of the room.

"Thank you. Wayne Manor has been in my family for generations. It's too big for me, but it's home. You met Alfred. He's been in the family service for a long time. Would you like something to drink?" he says, gesturing to the wide array of beverages available from a nearby counter.

"No, thank you. Yes, Alfred seems like a very nice person. And Jason looks like a good boy."

"I'm sure they'd be glad to hear you say that."

"He mentioned that you had to cancel work for today, is that true? I don't want you to be set back because of me."

He waves her concern away in a dismissive gesture of his hand. "Nothing Wayne Enterprises can't handle without me, and we'll be done before it's time for patrol. Besides, these papers have been waiting for ages for me to look through them." She nods, relieved. Mention of Jason brings another topic to her mind, one she is unsure exactly how to broach.

"Is Jason…your son?" She hesitates, unsure if she is treading on forbidden grounds. Since relationships between a man and a woman are practically unheard of where she comes from, she is painfully reminded that this is not the case with Bruce. She does not know which subjects are safe, so she just hopes she doesn't blunder.

Thankfully, thought Bruce remains silent for a bit, he doesn't seem offended or annoyed.

"In a way. He is my adopted son. I take care of him and teach him what he needs to know. Jason is…troubled. He has not had an easy life, and it's taken its toll on him. As I'm sure you've deduced, he is the Robin, he helps me in Gotham. I took him in and trained him, in hopes that it would help him. I think I'm succeeding, but it's not clear-cut. He is…very angry. At everything, including himself."

This must have been the longest she's ever heard him speak, besides that day over two weeks ago. She can tell that he has great love for Jason. Though not his biological father, Diana has no doubt that he is the father Jason needs, and probably wants. She mentions as much to Bruce, and he quietly thanks her, though she is not sure how much he really agrees with her.

She is about to say something, but notices his eyes stray from her face and rest on her Lasso of Truth, secured on her hip near her sword, so she stops and waits. He gathers his thoughts, and looks at her face again before speaking.

"You are a guest at my home, and you will be treated as such. However, there are a few things I wish to make clear."

Diana is by no means intimidated, but knows a warning tone when she hears one.

"Do you remember what I told you, soon after we formed the League?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that."

"I warned you about your Lasso."

"And _I_ told you that I'm perfectly capable of using it responsibly." The notion that she would abuse her Lasso irritates her now just as much as it did two years ago, when he first broached this particular subject.

"Be that as it may," Bruce says, "consider this your one and only warning. If we are to do this, if we are to meet outside of League business, know this. I am a very private person with a lot of secrets, not all of which are mine. I am not nice to be around. If, for any reason, you use that thing on me without my permission we will never speak again, you will never come back here, and one of us will have to resign from the League." His eyes are hard, his voice unwavering. She has no doubt that he means every word he says.

"It is fortunate, then, that I never intend to do anything like that." She does not get angry at him for thinking she would do that, she knows him better than that. She doesn't get angry that he thinks to give her orders. Rather, she takes it in good humor.

"Besides," she jokes, "I am sure you could lie even when magically compelled to say nothing but the truth." She means it as a joke, but seeing Bruce's face become unreadable, her eyes light up.

"You really can, can't you?" she asks, trying hard not to laugh aloud.

Reluctantly, Bruce replies, "There are…techniques that I know, that theoretically make this possible. It is designed as a defense against truth serums, but—"

"Can you demonstrate?"

He frowns. "Diana, what did I _just_ say about—"

"No, no, hear me out. I promise to ask you only one question with an obvious answer, like the color of the sky. Come on, I really want to see if it's possible to fool the Lasso. Please?" She is still unused to saying the word 'please', especially to men, but for Bruce she can make an exception. The word feels weird coming out of her mouth, but she gives it not a thought, focused on the matter at hand.

He shakes his head. "No, Diana, I told you—"

She cuts him off again, and can see irritation flash in his eyes because of that.

"I urge you to reconsider. It will help me when dealing with my foes to know that the Lasso isn't perfect, and I'll owe you a favor. What do you say? Help me be more efficient?"

"A favor, you say?" He rubs his chin, intrigued.

"Within reason, but yes. Anything."

He looks at her for a few seconds, but stretches of silence are nothing new when dealing with Batman. She knows she had him at the word 'efficient'. Her patience is rewarded by his tired sigh, music to her ears.

"Fine. But promise to only ask me one question. Say…ask me if the sky is red right now. That should do it."

"Fine, I promise," she says and grabs one end of the magical rope. Bruce holds up a hand.

"Give me a few minutes to concentrate first."

Saying this, he gets more comfortable on the chair and closes his eyes. In fascination, Diana watches as he relaxes, the lines on his face smoothing and his breath growing slower and more controlled. He looks asleep, aside from the fact that he is sitting and not lying down. After five minutes of this, he snaps his eyes open and looks at her, determinedly.

"Do it," he says, offering his right wrist. She quickly loops the end of her lasso around his wrist, and it glows a deep gold.

"Is the sky outside red?" She commands, and can feel the magic working on Bruce. He opens his mouth to reply, but instead closes it again. The magic presses him more firmly. His face contorts to one of confusion, before he replies.

"Yes."

Letting out a deep laugh, Diana uncoils the lasso from around his hand, and watches as the confusion slowly leaves Bruce's eyes, to be replaced by smugness, humor, and then a flash of irritation as he closes said eyes and rubs his temples.

"Is there a problem?" she asks, concerned. Her hand stops halfway between them, but in the end she replaces it on the arm of her chair instead of touching him. So much for her bravery, she curses herself.

"Nothing to worry about, just a headache."

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Lie to the lasso."

"I did not lie."

"Absurd. The sky outside is not red, Bruce." His reply to that is a smirk.

"You know that, and now I know that. But I didn't when you asked me."

"What?" She can't keep the confusion out of her voice.

"Is it considered a lie when someone actually believes what they are saying? Apparently your lasso doesn't think so."

"So…you lied by believing the sky is red?"

"In very simplistic terms, yes."

"How is that possible?"

"I met many interesting people in my travels, who taught me many interesting things. But that is a story for another day. Come, we have a lot to do before going out." With that, he rises and moves towards the door. Shaking her head at how brazenly he avoided giving out information by abruptly changing the topic, she follows him.

"Like what?" Instead of replying immediately, he gives her armor a pointed look.

"Well obviously we can't have you traipsing around Gotham looking like _that_." He gestures at her.

"What's wrong with my armor?" she asks, affronted.

"Nothing is wrong with it. Except the fact that everyone will instantly know who you are. You need a disguise, like me. A civilian identity, or at the very least civilian clothes so you can move around cities unmolested."

She scoffs at the notion of being molested by anyone, but understands what he is saying. Though she's tried many times to explore cities like London, Metropolis, and New York, she's had to abandon the idea soon after landing on any street, because of the crowds of people gathering around her. She had broken no less than five arms so far, when some pig decided to touch her.

"And you would happen to possess such clothes that fit me?"

He raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her. "I have many things. This manor is huge. You never know when you may need clothes of any kind."

"If you say so, Bruce."

He ushers her inside a huge guest room, complete with a four poster bed and built-in wardrobe. Like a little child, he leads her to the bed and tells her to sit down while he enters the wardrobe that looks at least as big as the room itself.

He emerges a few minutes later holding a variety of clothing pieces, from underwear to jacket and shoes.

"Wear these. I'll be back in ten minutes. Leave your armor here and you can retrieve it later."

"You are certain these will fit me?" She is sure he's fighting down the urge to roll his eyes as he tells exasperatedly that yes, they will fit her perfectly. He proceeds to vacate the room.

She removes her armor and strips completely, unashamed by the new environment. Though she's never worn this kind of clothing before, it is not hard to figure out what goes where. Knickers, bra, and a white shirt are soon joined by a knee-high dark blue skirt and business jacket along with shoes. The armor and weapons vanish, to be called magically whenever she has need of them.

She is smoothing the clothes on her when she hears Bruce knocking on the door. Giving him permission, he enters and gives her an appraising look, rubbing his chin with his right hand.

"Better, but it needs a few finishing touches." Saying that he approaches her and gently takes her head in his hands. Her eyes widen. His palm on her skin burns.

"Bruce, what—"

Her sentence is stopped as his hands swiftly and expertly tie her hair in a tight ponytail, using a small band that she hadn't noticed before. She fights down the urge to blush as he looks at her closely, a master craftsman inspecting his work. She is Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Princess of the Amazons. She does not _blush_.

"One second," he says as he goes back into the wardrobe, returning twelve seconds later holding a pair of stylish glasses on his hand. "Wear these."

She takes the glasses and wears them, not noticing any difference.

"These were made specifically for this purpose. They are a brand of see-through glass that does not hinder vision in any way."

"They're nice, Bruce, thank you. And the clothes, too. It will take some getting used to, but I like them."

"Come, see for yourself." He holds her by the waist as he leads her to a side of the room where part of the wall is occupied by a full-length mirror. Diana nearly gasps. She almost doesn't recognize herself. She notes that her suit is suspiciously matching his in color and style. She can see Bruce beside her through the mirror, smiling at her reaction. Actually smiling. Granted, it's more of a self-satisfied smirk than anything, but it's a _smile_. Her heart flutters, and she is suddenly very thankful that she went after him on that meeting, three weeks ago.

"Now you're a fine business woman on a lunch-date with Bruce Wayne, discussing business. No one will look at you twice. Well, they will, but not because they're suspicious." His smirk is as annoying as it is endearing and she completely misses the hidden compliment. "But you will also need this," he says and produces an ID, giving it to her. She looks at it and sees her face, glasses and all.

"What is this?"

"This is your Wayne Enterprises ID card. It also serves as a driver's license. Your official name is Diana Prince, born in Patra, Greece." She looks closer at the card and notices the various trivia written on it. It contains her birthday and exact height.

"How did you..." her voice trails off at his raised eyebrow and obnoxious half-smile, and she is acutely reminded to whom she speaks. She shakes her head and focuses on the name under which she is now officially listed.

"Diana Prince…" she utters the name slowly, rolling it around in her mouth, feeling it. Then she turns to Bruce and smiles. "I like it. Thank you, Bruce. This will not be forgotten."

One of those rare, pleased expressions cross his face as he waves her thanks away and leads her towards the door.

"So, does that mean I now work for you?" she jokes as they go through his house.

"Only if you want to. I made this to be your civilian identity if you ever need it, but I don't doubt you could fit in a variety of offices. We can work something out at a later date, see what you'd like to do."

"Is it easy? To make new identities, I mean."

"Usually? No. It's actually quite illegal. But this one will pass every test there is, so it's not a problem." The idea of injustice is not new to Themyscira, but the variety of possible crimes and the complications of the laws of Patriarch's World continue to surprise her.

"How did you get a picture of me though? With the glasses?" They are now at a great foyer, actually named "Main Hall", complete with two indoor floors and a majestic staircase. The extravagance of Wayne Manor also continues to surprise her. She is vaguely aware that Bruce is taking a different course than Alfred did, probably in an effort to give her a better idea of the manor.

"There are computer programs for that." She is only very vaguely aware of what a computer program is. Actually, she's not, but she's heard of it before.

Bruce notes that she will probably be interested in this next room. As is his tendency, he is right. The Wayne Manor Armory could easily fit into a museum. By Hera, it's probably got more antiques than most museums. The walls are lined with weapons of all ages, nationalities and types, with a strong focus on the dark ages all perfectly preserved and in pristine working condition. The middle of the room is occupied by a dueling stage. They examine the room for a few minutes with Bruce supplying information when she asks for it. Eventually she manages to pester a promise to a proper swordfight out of Bruce before they leave the Armory. By now she has learned to recognize the twitch in his left eye whenever he's suppressing an eye-roll.

As they approach what is obviously an exit, though not the main entrance, Diana asks, "So now what do we do?"

"Now?" he asks her as he opens a different door out of the mansion, where a slick, silver Lamborghini awaits them on a road that leads out of the grounds and towards the looming skyscrapers of Gotham City. His eyes shine with barely concealed mirth as he leads her to the hideously expensive car.

"Now I will show you the other side of Gotham."

* * *

**~W~**

**~W~**

**~W~**

Disclaimer: Characters, organizations and places mentioned are the property of DC Comics and associates. I claim neither ownership nor profits from this work of fiction.

Acknowledgments: I have not yet gathered the forty virgins to be sacrificed to our Lord and Master, Dinasis, but I believe that I shall, soon.

Notes: As part of my ongoing project to get decent at this 'writing' thing, I welcome and encourage anyone who has seen a typo, a missing/jumbled word or awkward phrasing to point it out in a review or a PM.


	3. Gotham Nights

Gotham City is as old as it is dreary, and one of the most important cities in America for a variety of reasons. Situated on the coast in the Northeastern United States, it is a few hours' drive from New York City. Originally founded by a Norwegian mercenary, it was later taken over by the British. The city boasts many battles in its history, particularly during America's Revolutionary War and Civil War. The city was defended by Union Army Colonel Nathan Cobblepot in the major battle of Gotham Heights.

Originally consisting of only a single island, Gotham has since expanded to the mainland and is now connected by a variety of bridges, such as New Trigate Bridge, the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, the Vincefinkel Bridge and an assortment of tunnels.

Many rumors circulate as to why, exactly, Gotham City is so…well, depressing and dangerous. Many people blame the cold and cloudy atmosphere, or the impressive but forlorn style of the architecture. But scholars, and more broadly people with access to the internet, who have read about Gotham don't stop there. Their explanations range from the occult, with various rumors regarding America's Founding Fathers and demons slumbering beneath the city, to the mob families and gangs that have made Gotham their seat of power, all the way to a series of natural and man-made disasters that have struck the city, everything combined with an outrageous rate of petty crimes. Diseases, earthquakes, massive turf wars, this city had seen it all.

This knowledge naturally makes outside observers wonder why Gotham City still has any sort of population. If it is such a horrible place, why don't the people simply move out?

There are reasons for that as well.

The cynics will immediately cite Gotham's economic importance. Manufacturing, shipping, finance, and fine arts, Gotham is an industrial city to its core. The population is heavily dependent on the industry, which includes a massive seaport and shipyard.

Others admit that the city's economy is important, but refuse to accept it as the only reason. They will claim that the city's crime rate is exaggerated, and that there is no plausible way that Gotham would thrive as much as it does if things there were as bad as the media claim.

Of course, no one would neglect to mention Wayne Enterprises. Some claim it is the only thing keeping the city economically afloat, and credit the Wayne Foundation as being the thing that keeps Gotham alive by the skin of its teeth with its immense charity, renovation, and rebuilding course, neither of these two categories of people have ever been to Gotham for more than a few days. If you would ask a Gothamite for their opinion, they would say that the truth lies an even distance between those two views, but far to the side.

All of the above are true, granted. The crime rate is indeed higher than most other cities, the mob does have a strong presence, and there has truly been a suspicious amount of disasters, not counting the various supercriminals running amok in recent years. But despite that, Gotham is a prosperous city. It has a booming economy, has spawned one of the most massive economic empires in the world, well on its way to the top, and Gotham University continually pumps out educated and savvy graduates. The youth party, the adults gather and socialize, and the elderly have parks to walk in and benches to sit on and dogs to walk and things to whine about. Gotham functions in much the same way all big cities do.

It's just that the threat of a horrible, painful death is constantly at the back of everyone's minds. By now, most Gothamites have lost someone they knew to some deranged lunatic, mob boss, or random act of crime. In all probability, the crime rate alone would have been enough to bring the city to its knees sooner or later.

But then Batman appeared. More like a devil descending on the souls of the wicked rather than the wrath of the merciful Lord, nevertheless he hit the crime rate like a freight train. As much as Wayne Enterprises keeps Gotham's economy afloat, Batman himself keeps Gotham from crumbling unto itself.

Many will argue Batman's contribution and, indeed, his existence. Outside of Gotham, Batman is viewed more as an urban legend, simple rumors to explain the sudden drop in organized crime. Even after the creation of the superhero team dubbed "Justice League", few non-Gothamites actually believe that the Batman they see battling alien invaders alongside the likes of Superman and Wonder Woman or coordinating his teammates against natural disasters is the same man that prowls Gotham at night and punishes evil like some vengeful demon of the shadows.

Others will claim that while Batman does exist, all he does is leech the credit from the GCPD. That his mere presence is the reason so many deranged lunatics dress up as they do and gas, blow up, cut, drown, burn, shoot, or otherwise kill innocent Gothamites.

Gothamites themselves rarely speak of the Batman. A good percentage of the population has been saved by him in one occasion or the other and in various ways, but Batman is more to Gotham than a man. He is a symbol, a constant presence. 'Batman', is the most frequent answer in _Gotham Gazette_'s 'Gotham is…' column. He can be either respected or feared, but more often than not is both. Few question the how or why of Batman, simply being grateful that he exists, or instead accepting him as an unavoidable part of Gotham City, for better or for worse.

One thing that _is_ true about Gotham, however, is the fact that despite rumors and beliefs to the contrary, it is quite possible to have a quiet evening without robberies, muggings, or insane clowns killing indiscriminately. In fact, most Gotham nights are quiet, outside of crime infested areas such as the Narrows.

* * *

**Gotham Nights**

* * *

Bruce is certainly hoping for such a quiet Gotham night, as he and Diana enter Gotham City proper via the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, not long after leaving the grounds of Wayne Manor. At the very least, he wishes that no trouble appears before it's time for him to suit up and go to patrol according to schedule.

As for Diana, having never been in a car such as Bruce's silver Lamborghini, or wearing such an outfit, or planning on seeing a big city incognito, or going on a not-date with the object of her affections, she is, understandably, quite excited. She rapidly fires questions at Bruce about this building or that statue, and he does his best to indulge her before something else catches her eye.

Now being on the smaller of the two islands that form the majority of Gotham City, Bruce opts to take a somewhat roundabout route before arriving at his intended destination.

He drives west, intending to make a circle of the island before taking the Sprang Bridge connecting it with the bigger one. They pass through the infamous Crime Alley, and Bruce's mood grows somber. He doesn't let it show on his face, unwilling to spoil the fun for the Amazon ambassador currently acting like an excited eight year old in the passenger seat. Cursing himself for the eight year old analogy that drops his mood further, he shakes such thoughts off of his mind as their first stop slowly comes into view.

After a brief, but expertly timed, drive to Cape Carmine, Bruce stops the car underneath the lighthouse. After leading Diana up to the top, they are treated with a great view of the sunset over the ocean.

"It's beautiful here, Bruce." Diana's eyes are shining. She is not new to beautiful landscapes, but to find a view like this in a city that is as heavily industrialized as Gotham is something she never would have expected. If she's being honest with herself, she did not expect to find any beauty in this city, from what she had heard prior to coming. How wrong she had been, she realizes.

"The Cape Carmine Lighthouse has long been a hot subject. Many want it demolished." He doesn't take his eye off the slowly fading sun, and doesn't need to look to know that while Diana does the same, she steals glances at him occasionally.

"That's just awful! This is such a great view. Thank you for bringing me here." As if to emphasize her point, the last visible part of the sun shines a bright red over the horizon and clouds, before vanishing completely.

Motioning for her to follow him, Bruce makes his way down the stairs of the lighthouse.

"That was the point. I promised you a tour of Gotham, and no tour would be complete without it."

"So what's next?" she asks as they reenter Bruce's car.

"Robinson Park, Grant Park, Cathedral Square, Monolith Square, the Knights Dome, One Gotham Center, take your pick. Gotham is a big city, Princess. I'm not sure the night is enough to show you all of it." Diana smiles at his words. She's not sure if he deliberately set himself up but she's certainly willing to pounce on this chance that he provided.

"That just means that for your obligation to be fulfilled there will have to be a second tour, does it not?" her playful tone removes any traces of force from her suggestion, and she grins slightly when she sees Bruce's mouth twist into a half-smile.

Something passes over his face, and in a split second he…changes, for lack of a better word. He turns his head to her, not minding the road too much, and gives her a dazzling smile, full of perfectly proportioned and white teeth.

"As many times as it takes for you to be satisfied, Princess." His voice is, surprisingly, very warm, pleasant and inviting. Diana's mind halts in its tracks. Sure, she's not exactly disappointed that he's showing some enthusiasm, and Aphrodite knows that voice is making her tingle all over, but this is definitely not like him.

"Bruce?" she asks tentatively, not sure how to voice her inquiry. His smile dissolves into the wary and calculating stare she is so used to by now.

"Sorry, I should have warned you first." His eyes turn back to the road, although he had absolutely no trouble driving while barely paying attention.

They are crossing the Sprang River using the, unsurprisingly named, Sprang Bridge. This island is where most of Gotham's infrastructure is based.

"What was that?" Diana asks, curious. His answer is a question.

"How much do you know about my public identity as Bruce Wayne?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. I've seen your name on the news and papers on occasion, if that's what you're asking." This causes a tiny, yet genuine, smile to play on his lips. She thinks it is much more attractive than the earlier one he shot at her, but she keeps such thoughts to herself.

"Never mind. I should have known you're not one for tabloids or gossip mongering channels. Well, to make a long story short, I act differently in public and in front of the cameras than I normally do."

"But why?"

"To protect Batman's identity. So that people will not make the connection between Batman and Bruce Wayne, I maintain the reputation of an arrogant young playboy who, when not running Wayne Industries or donating to charities, indulges in various extreme sports, fast vehicles and wild parties." This does make a lot of sense, Diana has to admit.

"Oh. I can see how that would be helpful."

Thinking back on his earlier words, she suddenly asks.

"Bruce?"

"Hm?"

"What's a playboy?" She is surprised to see his iron-clad composure waver for a split second and cause him to choke on his breath. She's suddenly sad that she didn't wait until he was drinking something. Batman choking on his drink would certainly be an interesting thing to see.

"Why do you ask?"

"I've heard the term before, I think, but am unfamiliar with it. I'm just curious. I could ask Kal if it bothers you."

"No!" Though she is teasing him, his reaction is more profound than she expected. She smiles inwardly. She must have hit a gold mine. Indeed, the thought of Diana asking Clark to describe what a playboy is, funny as it would be in a twisted kind of way, is more reminiscent of a nightmare.

"Then you will tell me?" She knows that he can see the ever so slight pout of her lower lip, even though his head is turned ahead. She knows that it affects him. He lets out a melodramatic sigh, and agrees. Though he keeps a straight face, his eyes are shining with mirth.

"A playboy is somewhat of a derogatory term used to describe a man who sleeps with many women, without engaging in actual relationships." As he expects, her eyes widen. First with surprise, then outrage.

"Why are such pigs not prosecuted?" she spits. He raises an eyebrow at her. She doesn't like how often he does that, lately.

"I assure you everything is consensual." She deflates at that, her previous anger evaporating in an instant. Then again, she considers, the Amazons themselves have no right to accuse Patriarch's World of anything, considering what the Smith told and showed her. Proof of their hypocrisy and cruelty is, even now, working at Hephaestus' smithies.

Clearly, she is still very new to this part of the world. Then her mind catches up to her, and she regards Bruce. Is he doing that? He described himself as this 'playboy', so does that mean he sleeps with every woman who throws herself at him? But then again, he said that he acts like that in public, to fool the people. This is all very confusing to Diana. She would never have thought that Batman would do something like this, but Batman has proven he is full of surprises, not all of them pleasant.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly feels the irrational urge to clarify. Inwardly raising an eyebrow at his own self over this weird feeling and promising to dwell further on it later, he nevertheless explains.

"It's an act, of course, most of the time. Just to fool the public."

To her credit, Diana doesn't miss a beat.

"Yes, of course. I never doubted that." She doesn't miss the twinge of annoyance she feels when he says 'most of the time' and its implications, but resolves not to let this spoil her mood for the evening. For a few hours it's only her, Bruce and Gotham, and that's all that matters right now.

Both choosing to forget such thoughts, they again became engrossed in the sprawling city around them. Bruce's car is drawing a lot of attention in the traffic, and though the windows are one-way, the "WNE" plates might have given him away.

Diana eventually grows restless. Though she likes Bruce's car, a lot, she wants to get out and stretch her legs. She doesn't like being confined, and there's only so much they can see from inside of a car.

"Bruce, can we get out of the car?"

"Sure," he nods in affirmation, "but then we won't be able to go everywhere on foot. Is that ok?"

"Perfectly fine. We've established that we'll need a part two to this little outing, anyway." She smiles and Bruce's lip quirks, which is basically a full-blown grin, for him.

Bruce decides to park the car near Port Adams, in a well-lit area in front of a very obvious CCTV camera. While buying another wouldn't be much trouble, and ignoring the fact that _his_ cars weren't so easily stolen, he doesn't want to take any undue risks.

Now on foot, they begin a slow walk along the Gotham port, a rather popular area for cafeterias full of youngsters.

Though Diana can withstand extreme heat and cold without any trouble, that doesn't mean that she isn't made uncomfortable by the chill. Both she and Bruce being without coats, they find themselves with Diana's arm around Bruce's and walking practically glued to one another. Bruce allows this, since it's more for his own benefit than anything else, and he is not stupid enough to deny to himself that he enjoys her closeness. While that may be a fact that he would never admit, even under torture, to others, he finds that denial to oneself is detrimental.

This literally being Diana's first time in Gotham, she constantly looks around and points things out to Bruce. Bruce himself, though stoic as always, cannot help but be affected by her cheer. It is very hard to not allow himself to relax, he notes even as he succeeds at doing exactly that. Though he's walked these roads dozens of times before tonight, it was never under quite such circumstances.

Blackgate Island soon comes in view, and even though the prison facility is a morose place, the island itself is impressive.

Bruce takes them back inwards, leaving the piers and heading in the general direction of the Gotham City Hall, northeast of Blackgate.

Throughout their walk, they exchange small talk over various topics ranging from the League and Luthor's latest misadventures to the climate of the last country they deployed in, all the while commenting on this or that interesting place they pass through, with Bruce providing the occasional anecdote of an experience he's had either as Batman or Bruce Wayne in that particular area.

A couple hours after they leave Bruce's Lamborghini, they find themselves walking along the City Hall District, a faint flush on both their faces from the cold. They make for an impressive picture, both towering over most of their fellow commuters, finely dressed and gorgeous. Many heads turn, either from their owners recognizing the Wayne scion, or admiration for one and jealousy for the other.

As they round a corner, heading into one of the many dark Gotham streets, a man steps into their path, forcing them to halt. Upon closer inspection, his is a young man, no older than twenty, and he holds a knife in his shaking hand. He demands their money in a stuttering voice, having correctly assumed that Bruce is loaded.

Diana turns to Bruce with a brilliant smile. He sighs, rubbing his eyes in irritation.

"Don't break anything. And leave him conscious."

Exactly four seconds and single scream later, the young would-be mugger is lying flat on his back and groaning in pain. Diana is idly snapping the shoddy knife in ever smaller pieces, having returned to Bruce's side and humming lightly. While normally she would have just apprehended the mugger immediately, this was Bruce's city, and if he wanted to take him down himself, he had the priority.

Bruce was between the mugger and Diana, so even if the boy wasn't flat on his back and seeing stars, he wouldn't have seen Diana snap the knife like it was made of cardboard.

Bruce walks up to the groaning mess and sits on his haunches.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks the young man, whose eyes are now rapidly looking around in fear.

"Look, please don't call the cops, I swear I—"

"Answer me," Bruce demands, narrowing his eyes. The young man gulps fearfully, and Diana wonders if he is close to pissing himself.

"It's my mother, uh, Mister Wayne, sir. She's very sick, and I don't—I, I can't—" He was stuttering wildly, incoherent and almost crying.

"What is your name? Don't lie, I'll know," Bruce cuts him off again with a question meant to reorient the youth.

"Err...Henry Blake, sir."

"Have you gone to university, Henry?" The young man in question has somewhat regained his composure, but is still afraid that this is just a rouse until the police arrives, or until the scary woman beats him up again. He glances at her, and she gives him a predatory smile full of teeth. He gulps.

"Um, yes, economics. But I couldn't find a job, and my mother's meds, you see..."

"Enough," Bruce commands, and Henry immediately shuts his mouth, eyes wide in fright. Bruce produces a stack of dollars from...somewhere on his person, and lets them drop on Henry's chest. "Buy your mother's meds. And come Monday, show up on Wayne Tower. They'll be expecting you. We'll see if you're worth something."

Henry's eyes are threatening to exit his eyes sockets, and he keeps stuttering incoherently even as Bruce rises to his full height and heads back towards Diana. Her own reaction would have been similar to Henry's if she didn't have better control over herself. She loops her hand with Bruce's again and they turn to go out of the alley, when Bruce halts and turns his head to the side to address Henry again. The boy has barely managed to sit up, and is continually muttering thanks while clutching the stack of dollars and sobbing uncontrollably.

"And Henry...if you ever do something like this again, I will know. And I will tell Batman. _He_ will find you, do you understand?" With that he leads Diana away, completely missing the young man's fierce nodding and heartfelt words of thanks.

"That was very kind of you, Bruce," Diana expresses her approval with warmth as she leans her head closer to his while they're walking. Bruce produces a noise that is very unbecoming of the 'Prince' of Gotham, something between a snort and a 'harrumph'.

"There are many ways to save someone." he says in lieu of an explanation. Diana silently agrees, and turns her eyes back to the city around her rather than the hero she's strolling around with.

Bruce would have taken Diana to the Wayne Botanical Gardens and Robinson Park, but figures that taking her to the place Anastasia Connor was grabbed at would ruin her mood.

"Are you hungry, Diana?" he asks suddenly. Diana opens her mouth to reply in the negative, but realizes that she is, in fact, quite hungry. They have lost track of time, and neither has had anything to eat in many hours.

"Yes I am. Can we have dinner somewhere?" she asks, taking a look around and finally staring longingly a fast food restaurant proudly displaying a flashing burger on their billboard.

Bruce notices where her eyes land, and snorts in amusement.

"No, thanks. I have something much better than that." With that, he leads her to a different road, and three blocks down they have reached it.

Though Diana doesn't pay attention to the label of the restaurant, she can certainly recognize that this place is as high class—and expensive—as it gets. Suddenly uncomfortable as they approach the doors, she leans closer to Bruce and says, "Bruce, I don't have any money on these clothes."

"Nonsense." Bruce shakes his head. "Did you really expect to pay for anything while in my presence?" She clearly did, but he doesn't give her time to reply as he leads her inside. A smartly dressed man welcomes them at the door and greets them in Italian, Bruce especially by name, and offers a compliment to Diana with a well-practised smile. Bruce thanks the man, apparently named Antonio, in equally fluent Italian and a smile that is as wide as it is fake.

Sometime before entering the restaurant, Bruce's hand had snaked around Diana and now held her comfortably by the waist. Diana paid it no mind, knowing it was part of his act, and blamed the flush of her cheeks on the cold, which was only a partial truth.

Antonio leads them to a table for two. The restaurant is very impressive, and Diana is glad that they are both dressed in business suits. They fit right in with the rest of the clientele.

Getting their seats, Antonio returns with two menus, and bows before leaving. Diana is embarrassed to ask Bruce for help on picking her food, but Italian has not yet come up in the different languages she has learned since her arrival in Patriarch's World a few years back.

They make polite conversation while waiting for their orders and while eating. After both are feeling sated and are nursing glasses of a fine red wine that Bruce picked, they engage in conversation once again.

"Tell me more about your family, Bruce," Diana requests, feeling quite pleased with herself. The evening is going perfectly so far. Although neither are calling what they are doing a 'date', it certainly fits all the descriptions of one that she has heard. She plans to get to know Bruce a little more, somehow extract another promise for a dinner like this but in a more official setting, and maybe even try to make Bruce have some fun for himself.

She is horrified to note Bruce's light smile falter, before vanishing altogether. Bruce takes a careful sip of his wine, before replying.

"You didn't know this, but I'm actually an orphan." Diana curses herself silently. Bruce Wayne is one of the most famous people in the world, and she's certain that she would have known this had she paid just a little more attention to the media. Stupid, _stupid_ Diana, she thinks furiously.

"I-I'm sorry Bruce. I didn't know. I'm really—" she stammers to somehow salvage the situation from her blunder, but Bruce cuts her off.

"It's alright. As you said, you didn't know. Besides, it was a long time ago. But I do have a sort of surrogate family, if you will. You've met Alfred already. He's the one who took care of me after my parents died."

"I'm sure he was great. He seems like a very kind person." She sips from her wine, trying to calm her nerves and still seething at herself for ruining Bruce's mood.

"Yes, he is. And you've met Jason."

"Your heir." Bruce frowns at this.

"Technically, Jason isn't my official heir, Dick is. Jason is, nevertheless, my son."

"You have another son?" Her surprised tone surprises him, in turn.

"I haven't told you yet, have I? He's my eldest, you could say. Richard Grayson. He's eighteen right now, and he recently moved out of the manor to live in Blüdhaven."

Diana frowns in confusion. Though Bruce finds this cute, he is glad he isn't drinking any wine, or anything at all, for that matter, when he hears what she says in response.

"And they call him Dick?"

"Yes."

"But isn't that—"

"Stop!" he cuts her off hurriedly. Diana stops mid-sentence and closes her mouth, realizing that this is one of those moments in which she has done something that is considered embarrassing or improper in Patriarch's World, while not meaning to. "Yes, it is. But it is also used as a name, and no they have no connection to one another."

"Well, okay. Apologies." Bruce tips his head at this, and they clink glasses. After both drink a bit, Diana asks: "And is Dick also your adopted son?"

Bruce nods his head at her accurate guess.

"He is. I adopted him when he was fifteen years old. He was part of a travelling circus that was visiting Gotham City. He, along with his parents, were doing an acrobat act, and I happened to be among the crowd that day. A saboteur sent by the mob caused Dick's parents to fall to their deaths, and he saw the whole thing." Diana's heart aches for the youngster that she has never met, but you don't have to know someone to feel for them in a situation like this.

"That's terrible!" Bruce inclines his head in agreement, nursing his wine.

"I felt the same way, so I filed to take him in. I trained him and he helped me take down the gang that organized the hit on his parents in order to scare the circus owner. Dick was the first Robin. Nowadays he calls himself Nightwing. Pah, ungrateful twerp." The last barb is said with a soft smile, and Diana can very easily spot the pride in his tone. To see his adopted son grow and slowly claim his own place in the world must be a very good feeling.

"And Jason?" again she curses herself as Bruce's expression falters imperceptibly, and then returns to his usual cool façade. She just keeps blundering like a silly teenager. He had told her just a few hours ago that Jason's past was troubled. Granted, Richard's past wasn't full of sunshine and daisies either, but Dick apparently turned out just fine. Jason obviously still has trouble.

"Jason's problems start and end with his parents," Bruce eventually explains. "His father was a two-bit criminal who didn't love his mother. His mother was a respectable woman who, sadly, loved his father much more than he deserved. By the time Jason's father was arrested for the final time, his mother was heavily into drugs. Jason's father died in jail, and not long after that his mother died from overdose."

This time Diana's courage doesn't abandon her, and she manages to slip her right hand in Bruce's left and squeeze lightly. He offers her a slight smile, but she's not sure if she really helps any.

"Jason was left alone and on the streets, so he did what he had to, to survive. He stole, he cheated, he lied. Eventually our paths crossed and I took him in. I decided to tell him of my mission, and to offer him a part in it. He's been good at it, though it hasn't been without its fair share of troubles. Despite all that's happened to him, he's a good kid."

"I'm sure he is Bruce, and I'm sure you can help him."

Bruce thanks her and extricates his hand from hers. This time Diana can't blame her blush on the cold, but if Bruce notices anything, he doesn't comment.

Their desserts arrive, and this particular conversation, thankfully, ends there.

Eventually Diana turns her attention towards Bruce's philanthropic endeavors. She herself has already helped various organizations, and is very interested in Bruce Wayne's charity foundations.

"It's an ongoing struggle," Bruce replies when Diana inquires about the Wayne Foundation, "But it helps keep Gotham's streets tolerable, and we're making actual progress in helping people. I actually have big plans for a complete renovation of Gotham, but they are still years away. Plus, all these fundraisers and parties are a great opportunity for Bruce Wayne to flaunt his wealth, socialize, _and_ throw money at the general direction of charities. As a matter of fact," Bruce says as he checks his watch, "there is a fundraiser for the homeless going on tonight." Diana looks up, surprised.

"There is? Oh Bruce, can we go?"

"You really want to go? You know the kind of people that go to these things, right? And the money has already been donated, so this is more of a social gathering than anything."

"Yes, I know," Diana waves dismissively "I've been to many such functions. Nevertheless, your presence would surely help, and I want to see it. As a self-exiled Amazon, I'm kind of homeless, aren't I?" Many would consider the joke tasteless, but both Diana and Bruce crack a smile.

"Yes, fine. If you want to, we'll go, but we need to make a stop before going there."

"For?"

"You'll see," he says. She doesn't like this particular grin of his, it means he's planning something.

Rising from their chairs, Bruce profusely thanks Antonio for his services and tips him while shaking his hand. Though they make no stop to pay while exiting the restaurant, Diana has no doubt that everything has been already paid for. They resume their strolling, this time with a more concrete destination in Bruce's mind.

Soon, they have reached a major road that is full of stores. Bruce leads her to one such store, the displays of which are filled with impressive dresses and suits. The inside is even more luxurious, and a young blond woman, obviously part of the staff, quickly approaches them with a wide smile. Bruce lets go of Diana and, grinning widely, gives the girl a hug.

"Bruce, dear, so good to see you again!" the blonde girl, whom Diana is quickly starting to dislike, says.

"You, too, Stacey. How's Mark treating you?"

"Oh, he's trying his best. He's got a lot to live up to," she replies with a wide smile at Bruce as they separate from the needlessly long hug. _And an ex_, Diana thinks dryly, _just perfect_.

Stacey turns to Diana, as if seeing her for the first time. Though the smile she shoots at the Amazon princess is full of professionalism, Diana can easily recognize the spark of jealousy in her eyes. She represses the sudden urge to smirk at the hapless girl.

"And who's this one you've discovered this time, Bruce?"

"This, Stacey, is Diana Prince. We need to find a dress for her to wear on tonight's fundraiser for the Wayne Foundation, so naturally I came to the best." Still new to this public side of Bruce, Diana has trouble connection the sociable and charming man in front of her to the ever silent and reserved Batman. Stacey lets out a trill laugh at his words.

"Of course, of course. Aren't you a little late for the party, though?"

"Fashionably late, my dear, fashionably late," Bruce says and shoots her another smile. Stacey points Diana to the side of the store full of impressive dresses.

"Go and take a look around, Miss Prince. I'll be right there." Diana complies, but out of the corner of her eye she sees Stacey lean close to Bruce's ear. Her keen senses easily pick up what she asks. "What are we going for with this one?"

Bruce replies in equally hushed tones, fully aware that Diana can hear everything. "Impressive but respectable, Stacey." Said salesgirl nods her head in understanding.

"I trust you know where to go?" she asks him, and he nods in affirmation. Stacey puts her professional smile back on and heads over to help Diana. The Amazon demi-goddess quickly loses sight of Bruce as she delves into the world of high-society dresses.

She emerges for air forty-six minutes later wearing a knee-high black dress with one strap on the left shoulder, low shoes because of her already impressive height, and a pair of diamond earrings that the store has specifically for this particular dress. The dress hugs her figure in such a way as to pronounce her impressive curves while not actually showing a lot of skin. Stacey takes a look at her and declares that this is the right one, and that she looks lovely. Turning in front of a full-length mirror, Diana has to agree.

The blond salesgirl suggests they find Bruce and Diana nods in affirmation, so they move towards the men's side of the store. They find Bruce in front of a full-length mirror, easily tying the bow-tie of his perfect black tuxedo.

He turns to them, and upon seeing Diana his face becomes unreadable. Diana recognizes the poker-face, it's the one he uses when he wants to give nothing away. The fact alone that he summoned it is enough of a reaction for her, and she grins for the first time since entering the store. She idly notes Stacey staring longingly at Bruce, unashamedly. _This Mark must be such an unlucky fellow_, she thinks to herself.

"You look great, Mister Wayne. Not many people know how to wear a tux properly," Stacey says as she moves towards the counter. Bruce doesn't reply as he looks at Diana.

"You make that dress look lovely, Diana." Though he says that, she is unsure if he really means it or if it's part of the act. Well, she is certain he likes it, but not sure to what degree. She decides to take the compliment and worry about the details later.

"You don't look half bad, yourself." Her eyes take in his impressive form approvingly. Stacey is right, she realizes, he does know how to wear a tuxedo.

"Your spare clothes will, of course, be delivered to Wayne Manor tomorrow morning," Stacey says as she accepts Bruce's solid gold credit card for the purchases. Seeing the card, Diana has to resist the strong urge to roll her eyes. _Billionaires and their toys_.

Bruce says his goodbyes to Stacey and Diana patiently waits for her to stop hugging _her_ escort, and then they're on their way. Diana is very surprised to see the Lamborghini waiting for them outside of the store.

Bruce takes one look at her expression, and says, "What? You didn't think I was putting on a tux for almost an hour, did you? Pah, _women_." This time she can't resist rolling her eyes as they enter the car and Bruce drives ahead.

They drive in silent anticipation; silence for Bruce, anticipation for Diana. It is he who breaks it, when he turns to talk to her.

"Listen, Diana. These fundraisers are full of reporters. We will be watched every second we are there. I will tone down my act as much as I can, but I would appreciate it if you played along, or at the very least refrained from breaking my arms or doing something equally painful to my person." She thinks he is joking, but his face is as serious as ever. She considers this, before replying.

"The amount of broken bones will be directly proportionate to what you touch or say." She speaks in an equally serious tone, and Bruce represses the urge to gulp. He doesn't need to be reminded that she can snap his collarbone just as easily as he would break a toothpick.

"Understood. Just remember that as far as these people are concerned, you are my date for the evening, so a certain amount of closeness is expected." Diana silently wishes that he would consider it, too, but knows that it is too early. She does not push or say anything. Bruce continues. "For that matter, try to refrain from answering personal questions."

As Diana thinks about it, she starts worrying. "Bruce, if the place is as full of reporters as you say, won't they be curious as to Bruce Wayne's escort? They will undoubtedly look up Diana Prince and they—"

"Will find enough records of your existence and history in my company, I assure you." Diana looks at him, incredulous.

"But, Bruce, I've never been to Wayne Tower before. I've never even set foot in Gotham before today." Bruce spares her a sideways glance and throws her a look he usually reserves for his teammates when he wants to convey 'you're missing something incredibly obvious' without actually saying anything.

"My company doesn't just work in Gotham. It is international, with departments all over the world. Reporters looking you up will find records of your many degrees, your hire by Wayne Enterprises in Greece, and your recent transfer to Gotham at my personal request." He says all that in a pleased tone, obviously proud of his handiwork.

"When did you arrange all this?" She shakes her head with a smile. She should have known better by now, she thinks inwardly.

"Before inviting you to the Manor." Well, Diana thinks, no one ever accused Batman of not being thorough, and no one ever will. "I will redirect any attention beyond the normal that comes your way. We should be fine, just stay close to me. These people are like vultures."

Diana says that she has been to such functions before and know how people act, but Bruce only shakes his head and tells her that any function she has attended she did so as Wonder Woman. Few people are stupid enough to tempt their fate with Wonder Woman, and none of them can be found at such elite social gatherings. Diana decides to take his word for it, and assures him that she will stay close. It's not like she plans to wander far, in any case.

Diana watches Bruce with fascination as his demeanor changes the closer they get. His face lightens, an impressive smile forms on his lips, his brow loses the frown, and the sharpness of his gaze vacates his eyes. "We're here," he says as they reach the fundraiser.

It is, as Bruce predicted, full of reporters. Lines have been drawn along the stairs to the function center, behind which a slew of reporters are snapping pictures. As soon as the silver Lamborghini with the trademark 'WNE' approached, the reporters go wild.

Bruce exits the vehicle first and smiles at the cameras. He gives the keys to a valet before going around to open Diana's door and helping her out of the car. This being behavior she would normally find outrageous, she calms herself by remembering that she agreed to follow Bruce's lead, and that she doesn't want to blow his cover. She follows his example and smiles as he holds her by the waist close to him, in front of the car. After a few seconds and many blinding flashes of lights, Bruce leads them up the stairs. He makes short stops to greet some reporters, joking with them and introducing Diana in name only, before heading inside.

Diana has never been held so close by a man before, and finds the experience not at all unlikable. It would be better if Bruce did it by choice, but it is an acceptable first step, she considers. A hunter must first trail her pray.

The fundraiser is full of sparkle. Well-dressed men and women, businessmen and rich people and celebrities, the crème de la crème of Gotham is gathered here. Diana's fascination never wavers as Bruce leads her from group to group, introducing her briefly and then directing the entire flow of the conversation. If she didn't know him before today, she would never believe that this is anything other than his true self. He makes tasteful jokes, he laughs when appropriate, and he always commands the full attention of the group of people they are currently talking with. Diana herself idly exchanges pleasantries with various people, fully aware of Bruce's advice and the fact that he's paying careful attention to her conversations. She only divulges what Bruce told her, and pays extra attention to the stories her conversation partners have to share about themselves.

They frequently visit the bar, though Bruce only consumes ginger ale which bears a very close resemblance to the champagne that Diana allows herself to enjoy liberally.

After a couple of hours of socializing, Bruce is asked to give a speech and he gracefully accepts, jokingly passing Diana to one of his 'friends' to keep safe while he's away. He makes it appear as if he is slightly inebriated, but Diana knows better.

He gives an impressive speech about the work of the Wayne Foundation for the homeless and its hopes for the future, urging the guests to help in any way they can, and seamlessly adds tasteful jokes that have the crowd roaring as much as such a high class gathering ever does, while retaining the seriousness of the matter he's talking about. Upon concluding his speech he gives a toast to Gotham's future, which all the attendees follow. Diana is impressed by his ability to command the attention of a crowd, even while under the guise of the foolish playboy.

Next is the time for dancing. Bruce takes her hand and leads her in a semi-slow dance around the dance floor, where many couples have joined them. Bruce's hands are suspiciously lower than her waist, but not low enough to warrant interference from her. He's also holding her far closer than necessary. The champagne she has consumed along with the wine from earlier may be making her give him more leeway than she usually would, but nevertheless they dance pleasantly and exchange low whispers. Diana can honestly say that she is having a great time, but knows that the hour of Batman's usual patrols is fast approaching.

"I think you've had enough champagne for the evening," he tells her as they break from dancing and head back to the bar. She rolls her eyes at him, a pink hue to her cheeks.

"Yes, mother."

"Seriously, remember that you need to fly home." Resigned, she puts down her glass of champagne.

"It's really good, though."

"It had better be, considering I paid for it."

"Of course you did." She sighs, and tries to clear her mind. She turns to look at him. "Do you want to get out of there?"

He nods. "I've talked to everyone I should've, I've contributed as much as I always do, and around this time I usually leave, so no one will think twice." He pauses for a bit. "You really impressed them, Diana."

"Nonsense, I barely spoke to anyone."

"But you did. And you are the most beautiful woman in here. You can be certain you'll be all over Gotham's papers for the next few days. At least this time it won't be as Wonder Woman."

"Not bad for a first appearance, is it?" she jokes as he slowly leads her toward the exit. They occasionally stop to say goodbye to some acquaintance.

"Not bad, indeed." As the valet brings them the Lamborghini, Bruce handsomely tips him and they enter the car. Diana immediately notes his grin dissolve and the glaze in his eyes clear. The real Bruce Wayne is back, she sighs inwardly.

They say surprisingly little as Bruce drives them back towards Wayne Manor, Diana trying to clear her head from the alcohol. She is positively giddy, and barely manages to not float in her seat. In what appears to her as no time at all they are entering the grounds, the car slowly driving up to the entrance they used earlier in the afternoon. By Zeus, she can't believe it was only hours ago.

They exit the car and walk up to the door. Bruce opens it and turns towards her.

"Do you want to come inside, take your armor?" Diana shakes her head in a negative response. She gathers her focus and spins, magically calling her armor to her and banishing the dress to wherever the armor was at. The demi-goddess is very thankful her spin was successful, for she would have died of embarrassment had she tripped and fell. Returning her gaze to Bruce, she flashes him a brilliant smile as she spontaneously hugs him. He doesn't resist, though his reciprocation is not as enthusiastic as she would have liked.

When she releases him, he is still regarding her with the same curious stare. "I had a great time today, Bruce."

"I know," he murmurs in acknowledgment. Normally she would reprimand him for his arrogance, but she concedes that she made no effort to hide anything, and didn't want to. If her mind was a bit clearer, she might have taken note of his pensive and slightly troubled look. "Go to bed, Princess." His soft tone makes her shiver more than the chill in the air could ever do, but she nods her head, acknowledging the wisdom of his suggestion. For a brief, very brief instant, she entertains thoughts of kissing him. She knows that would not go over as well as her spontaneous hug, and she's not nearly drunk enough to have completely lost her common sense.

"Be careful, will you?" she implores, knowing full well the night is just beginning for him.

_It is just patrol_, he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he humors her. "Of course."

Diana takes a few steps back and starts hovering.

"Good night, Bruce. I look forward to next time." With that parting farewell, the self-exiled Amazon princess takes to the air and soon vanishes from sight.

In a hurry as she is to go to bed, she doesn't see Bruce's eyes frown or his expression darken as he watches her fly away, nor does she hear his whisper, "We'll see."

Cleansing thoughts of the Amazon from his mind, Batman enters the Manor and heads to the Batcave, where Robin awaits for their nightly patrol of Gotham City.

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**~W~**

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Disclaimer: Any fictional characters, places or organizations mentioned are the property of DC Comics and associates. I claim no ownership of thus, nor do I make any profits from this work of fiction.

Acknowledgments: Despite being clearly wrong on some matters of debatable importance, Dinasis remains my Lord and Master. So you must convert, heathens.

Notes: Hella big chapter. Certainly didn't feel this big when I was writing it. And by the way, if you disagree with my vision of Batman, tough. I suggest you actually read a couple of his comics, or at the very least his wikipedia page, before you claim to know him.


	4. The Siege

**Disclaimer:** Any fictional character, place, or situation that you recognize is owned by DC Comics and associates. I claim no ownership, neither do I make any profits from writing this. Additionally, there is a scene premise and some lines of dialogue taken directly from issue #3 of _Red Hood and the Outlaws, _which is owned by DC Comics and produced by Scott Lobdell, Pasqual Ferry, Ig Guara, and Brett Booth. A rather awesome series, if I do say so myself.

**Acknowledgements:** As always our Lord and Master, Dinasis, must be paid the respect he is due, at least until I grow strong enough in the Dark Side to overthrow him.

Also thanks to the aforementioned people for making something as awesome as _Red Hood and the Outlaws _and inspiring guys like me. Thanks to all those who reviewed, you guys don't know how uplifting it is for me.

**Notes:** If you are like me, and hate long Author's Notes, then skip this. It contains nothing important to the story, just some things I want to talk about.

Considering the wordcount of the chapter itself is over 9k words _without_ the note, I felt it okay if I did this, though I'm usually against it.

First order of business, I want to thank all those who favorited or followed me or my stories, or any and all combinations of the above. Truly, I am glad you thought my stuff good enough to keep an eye on. However, I have to admit that it is quite irritating to see someone favorite and follow you _and_ your story, but still refuse to leave a review. Really dude? _Really_? You do all the needless crap, but you can't leave a two word review for the author? I appreciate the follows and stuff, and I'm not usually a review whore, but take a look at the BM/WW recently updated stories. You see shitty fics like that *****asshatery that has 3 fucking chapters and barely 4k words. That's less than 1.3k words per chapter. And I see that it has over 45 reviews or somesuch. I see crap like that, and I suddenly don't want to live on this planet anymore. Newsflash people; if a story's chapters have anything less than _at least_ 3k words, there is something seriously wrong with it, or its author.

Next thing I want to mention is something of a gift for you guys, whoever likes this fic. I have a very clear view of how this story will end, and a pretty clear view of how it will get there. However, I can easily fit extra scenes here and there. If you have an idea that you would like to see implemented, or a canon storyline (from whatever media)that you think would be interesting to see within this fic, let me know in a review or a PM. I will check out your idea, and see if I can adapt it somewhere in this story. I can't promise it will be exactly as you want it to be, since it will have to be tweaked to fit, but I will do my utmost to present it in the right spirit. Credit will, of course, be given where credit is due.

If you want to be helpful, point out typos and/or mistakes of any kind. It is the first step to becoming a Lord and Master.

This has been the longest chapter I have written so far, and packs quite the punch, methinks. But this story is still in it's early stages, so don't expect things to slow down after this. So far I have been updating weekly, but this may not last. My update rate may waver, but I shall endeavor to have a chapter ready at least every couple weeks.

I swear there was something else I wanted to say, but I can't remember it. Meh, it's too late-or too early, depending on how you look at it- for me to care.

***: **There was the name of a story that was the perfect example of what I'm saying, but after the author bitched and moaned about it I thought it prudent to remove the title. Think of the children!

Enjoy.

**~W~**

**~W~**

**~W~**

**~W~**

**~W~**

* * *

Generally upon awakening Diana always feels refreshed and ready for a full day. One of the perks of being Heaven's illegitimate child, she supposes. Even after a full day of fighting and collecting injuries as she goes, she is always fully healed and rested after a good night's sleep, barring near fatal circumstances. It would explain her surprise when she woke up the next day with a pounding headache and a foggy mind.

She awakes tangled in the sheets, still wearing the full Wonder Woman outfit sans boots, for some reason. She lets out a pathetic groan as she contemplates the merits of trying to go back to sleep. With herculean effort, she lifts her head and blearily looks at her alarm clock. Through heavy eyelids, she sees the time. Twenty minutes past ten in the morning. She has had over eight hours of sleep, so why does she feel like this?

Though her head is swimming and her eyelids flutter, she refuses to accept the indignation of such weakness, and floats herself to a sitting position. From there, she brings up her left hand to cover the gigantic and completely unladylike yawn that escapes her. Noticing that she is still wearing her armor, she absently reaches behind her back to unclasp it. Failing a couple of times and getting irritated, she tries again with both hands before finally succeeding. She rises, and discards the rest of her clothing as she stumbles toward the bathroom, accepting that she needs a cold bath to clear her mind.

Goal in mind, she enters the bathroom of her London apartment, and fumbles with the shower levers. She lets out a light yelp as the water hits her back, much colder than she anticipated. Though she is granted protection against extreme temperatures, even she is not protected against things that are simply _cold_. Quickly adjusting the temperature of the water, she starts to shower in earnest, remembering that she did not have one last night.

What _did_ happen last night? She was right, her mind is clearing, courtesy of the cold water, Zeus bless Patriarch's World's inventors. With the newfound clarity comes a flood of memories. A quick flight to Gotham, Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth, Jason Todd, Bruce, Gotham City, Cape Carmine, the unnamed restaurant and the clothes store, and finally the Wayne Foundation fundraiser, it's all coming back to her.

The memories also provide an explanation for her current state. She groans pathetically and considers that maybe drinking so much had been a bad idea. She had not had a single drop of alcohol since leaving Paradise Island, and that was years ago. Themysciran wine has nothing on Patriarch's World's alcoholic beverages, that's for sure. She was feeling so elated at the ongoing success of her not-date with Bruce, that she indulged in a little too much champagne and wine. Maybe Bruce had the right idea with that ginger ale.

Apparently, being a demigoddess and blessed by half a dozen goddesses did not gift her with a higher alcohol tolerance. Something to remember, that's for sure. She thanks Dionysus that she at least did not drink enough to forget all that came to pass the previous evening.

Memories of the hours spent with Bruce bring a wide grin to her face. She cheers internally, and then when she feels this is grossly inadequate, she lets out a loud, high-pitched cry of elation, barely muffled by the running water. Last night was a total success, she chants inside her head, unable to hold back a round of giggles but not caring at all for the indignation of it all.

Now fully awake and with her headache slowly fading, she rinses and shuts off the water flow. Ignoring its hot springs, Paradise Island would be greatly improved by showers, she thinks. Grabbing a towel, she wraps it around her hair with quick, deft movements. With another, bigger tower she quickly dries herself and heads out of the bathroom, wrapping it snugly around her torso. She cannot contain the wide grin on her face.

She enters her small kitchen area to prepare a cup of delicious coffee, fully intending to get rid of the headache in order to examine last night in more detail. As she waits for the coffee and for her hair to dry, she puts on some underwear and sheepishly gathers the pieces of her armor strewn between the bedroom and the bathroom. Being too impatient to wait for her hair to dry naturally, she cheats, and with a flex of her abilities as Heaven's child, the water evaporates from her hair. Grinning at the handy trick, she puts away the towel and wears the armor that she collected from around her apartment.

Next, she endeavors to find her boots. She finds the first one under the kitchen table, and then she eyes the new crack in her wall with suspicion. If she looks at it from the right angle, it seems probable that the throw was made from the bedroom and that the boot landed there after rebounding off the kitchen wall. Resigned, she goes off to find the other boot. After an initial failure, she returns to the kitchen. She resumes her search, this time armed with a mug full of steaming coffee. Twenty minutes of searching every crevice of her admittedly small apartment, she has a flashback from last night and groans audibly. Opening the front door, she quickly snatches boot number two from where she'd discarded it last night while unlocking her door.

Now fully clothed and caffeinated, she retrieves her League communicator and stands on the transporter pad, hidden in a secret room behind her closet. Her very heavy, wooden closet. She absently starts up the teleporter, coffee mug still in hand, and in a few seconds her molecules are reassembled aboard the Watchtower.

Today being a day completely free of any Ambassadorial or UN duties, and having not had any divine trouble recently, she has no better choice than to spend the day up in the Watchtower, as it is still too early to go wandering. She scrunches her nose at the memories of the few times she tried the local custom called 'clubbing', not long after she arrived. The times not ruined by Strife were ruined by the fact that she was alone and that the men there were sexist pigs. In fact, the last two points were interchangeable, probably. Eventually, she gave it up, even though she really enjoyed dancing to the music. Another great addition for Themyscira. Food for thought.

The recent lack of troublemaking gods has her on edge. Though War has probably better things to do than bother her, Strife usually doesn't leave her waiting for long.

Blaming it on her recent good fortune, she makes her way to the Monitor Womb. If anyone is aboard, they'll be there. With a mental jolt, she suddenly remembers that Hal is off planet, needing to go take care of a variety of trouble on some planet or another in their sector.

The existence of the Green Lantern Corps has fascinated her since Hal's first explanation. It gives her some perspective, knowing that there is a group of people protecting the entire universe, that they have done so for countless years. The group is led by a number of immortal and powerful creatures, aptly named 'Guardians of the Universe'. Hal spoke of them with what was probably less respect than he should, and much more suspicion than his station should allow, but the basic description that his ring provided was informative enough. Though the female voice of the ring's A.I. is a bit creepy, she thought to herself.

She does her best to safeguard the Earth, but Hal, as a Green Lantern, is responsible for the entire space sector, literally a small part of the universe. Hal Jordan is not her favorite person. Indeed, her opinion of him is rather low, chauvinistic pig that he is, but she does not deny his dedication, willpower, or sense of duty. Similarly, his long spans of absence are not begrudged by anyone in the League.

Surprisingly, only Kal, in full Superman garb, is in the Monitor Womb, sitting in front of a monitor and looking the perfect picture of boredom. A hand under his chin, check; drooping eyes, check; sleepy expression, check.

"Good morning, Diana," he says without turning.

"And to you, Kal." She refrains from remarking upon the paradox of wishing someone a good morning whilst on a space station, instead opting to sit on a nearby chair and nurse her still hot coffee. "Anyone else around?"

"Victor is tinkering with the reactor core, I think."

"Slow day?"

"Yeah." He lets out a heavy sigh, and Diana's hair flaps a little at the air current it produces. "I'll probably fly by Smallville later. Haven't visited in a while."

Diana idly notes that he is sulking. The fact that he is already here probably means that he was here most of the night, if not all of it. Probably trouble with that reporter he keeps pining after, if she's not mistaken.

Honestly, he's the strongest person on the planet and yet he is scared of a coworker. Diana doesn't think that she will ever understand his situation.

Superman, as if snapping from a trance or hearing a sudden noise, tears his eyes from the monitor in from of him and regards her with a critical eye, his hyper senses in overdrive. Her heart is giving her away, beating slightly faster than usual, and her smell is slightly different. Still, he suspects that even without super senses, her good mood would be hard to miss, with the huge smile on her face and glowing eyes. He is certain she is not even aware of how much she is smiling. His own mouth curls into a teasing grin.

He graciously waits until she is not drinking before commencing his attack. "Had fun last night, did you? You're positively glowing." Still she sputters denials and blushes fiercely. Her appreciation of innuendo has certainly grown over the years.

"No? Nothing interesting happen yesterday?" He sees the resignation her eye, as if she just remembered that she is speaking to a person who can hear everything and see anywhere.

"It was just a visit to Gotham. Bruce wanted to show me around. Why were you spying on us?" She doesn't know why exactly she is getting defensive, but she likes her privacy and demands-no, expects- that everyone respect it.

"Relax," Kal placates, "I was just in the neighborhood. I heard your voice from Gotham and found it curious, that's all."

She still regards him with suspicion, since 'being in the neighborhood' for him can mean that he was in Australia and happened to hear them. "You watched us the whole time?"

"Not really. Bruce has everything he owns lined with lead. He also outfitted the Manor and all his vehicles with something that keeps any sound from escaping, so that even I can't hear anything. I got bored around the time you left the restaurant."

"Yes, well…" She coughs awkwardly, unsure of what to say. "As I said, Bruce was just showing me around Gotham. I had never been there before, so it was an interesting experience."

"I bet it was." He winks at her teasingly, and she frowns in indignation.

"Listen here, Kal—" before she is able to tear into him for mocking her, Superman laughs, and she lets the sentence fade, not able to retain her anger.

"Sorry, sorry, you're just such an easy target. Look, what you and Bruce do with your time is your business, not mine. And besides, it's about time he did something other than beat people up or smile at people he wishes he could beat up." Hearing his description of Bruce's pastimes, she cannot hold back a laugh of her own. The mirth leaves Kal's face, and he regards her seriously.

"Honestly, Diana, I worry about Bruce sometimes. He's giving too much of himself to Gotham, to the world at large. I'm afraid that if he doesn't find something to do that helps _himself _and not someone else, he'll lose himself eventually. And there's no one better than you to help him with that."

Diana sighs and shakes her head, acknowledging that to deny anything to Kal would be, as they say, an exercise in futility. He can probably hear her pulse, or something equally ridiculous, to determine if she's lying.

"Am I really that transparent?"

"Alien with super senses, remember?" he says as he taps his temple. "Or, alternatively, a reporter. Blame whichever you prefer. Either way, if you were trying to hide it, you've been doing a pretty terrible job of it."

Diana grimaces. "I'm not, but I still didn't think I was being that obvious about it."

"Sorry to disappoint you then." He laughs again, and for a minute neither speaks. "I have to admit to being surprised, though. I didn't expect Bruce to be so open with you last night. And please don't tell him I was listening in. He'll probably poison the Planet's coffee machines with ground kryptonite dust, or something equally painful and fatal. Or he'll just fire me."

She ignores his humor, or at least she hopes he is joking, and instead focuses on his expectations of Bruce. She has to admit, she did not expect it either. Though Bruce was his usual gloomy self, he was also oddly accommodating and polite. He smiled more times in her presence last night than in all the years they've known each other put together. That alone should be cause for…not quite concern, but certainly interest and maybe further examination.

She thinks it a pretty safe bet to assume that he was being more positive out of respect or attraction towards her, though it's possible that he was just being a good host, or perhaps it was the absence of the Batman costume and its mental requirements. Though she is not averse to having his respect, she is rather interested in his attraction at the moment.

The whole affair is confusing her more than she thought it would. She cannot figure him out. She knows that everything he does is fully calculated, but without knowing his intention one can almost never presume things regarding the Batman.

She doesn't feel like much of a hunter at the moment, although last night was as positive a sign as she could get at this point. But if this is so, why does she feel like she is missing something? Why does she have a bad feeling?

"Do you think I have a chance, Kal?" she asks quietly, looking at her mug, now empty of coffee. She hates this feeling of insecurity. She hates the weakness it brings, but at the same time she cannot help it. Despite being an Amazon and a demigoddess, she is first and foremost a woman.

Of the people she knows and trusts, only Kal-El can claim to know Bruce, if only partially. Though no one in the world is likely to know Bruce better than the butler who raised him after his parent's deaths, she knows that the man is fiercely loyal to Bruce, so she is not sure that talking to him about it would be helpful, or productive. Hence, Kal is her only chance at gaining some insights. Maybe even—dare she think it?—_answers_.

Superman contemplates this question in silence for a while, his eyes never leaving Diana, searching for something there. Eventually, he exhales heavily, exaggeratedly, and answers in a somewhat tired voice, "I would say that yes, you do, but it isn't that simple. _He_ isn't that simple.

"Bruce feels that any time he spends on himself is time that he could and should spend helping others, stopping bad guys, or both. It is a noble sentiment, but it means that he is actively avoiding even the smallest of personal comforts, gigantic mansion notwithstanding."

Neither smile at the humor, and Kal doesn't pause as if expecting her to. He keeps talking.

"I suspect that Bruce resents me a little for this. Where he views personal time as unimportant in the face of saving people, I maintain a life as Clark Kent, I go to work and socialize. He tries to understand, but he can't. He sees all my powers and abilities and it makes him wonder why I don't give it my all to stop injustice in the world, instead _wasting_ half my time by having a regular life while people die." Kal pauses to gather his thoughts, it's obviously a subject he's thought about in length.

"The truth is that I _need_ personal time. Without it, I would have gone mad long ago. I need to spend time among the people, with my parents, and with my friends, to replenish my energy and remind myself what it is that I fight for. Bruce needs it, too, but he denies it. I'm sure it's driving Alfred mad with worry."

A healthy pause here as well, during which all that Kal is saying swirls in Diana's head, as she tries to process and understand it. What exactly does this mean? And how exactly does she fit into this precarious balance the Dark Knight has created for himself?

"I don't doubt that he likes you, Diana. His suit may mute my super senses to a degree, but I can still see and hear like anyone can, and to anyone with those basic abilities who knows Bruce like I do it's pretty obvious that he likes you. And that's where the problem starts. Usually when Bruce enjoys something, he avoids it. He doesn't want distractions from his work. He feels that he can only be Batman if he fully devotes himself to the mission of cleaning Gotham's streets."

"But…why? I don't understand. So many other heroes are doing good work without giving themselves up. Why does he feel the need to do this?"

As before, Kal takes a while to answer. When he does, it is with cryptic words, something rare for him. "I can't tell you much. There are things that Bruce has entrusted me with. You'll have to wait until he tells you himself. However, I _can_ tell you this: to understand Bruce, you need to first understand Batman. But to understand Batman, you must first understand Gotham."

He says nothing else, and Diana's mind is racing. She heard something similar three weeks ago when Bruce tried to explain to her why she would be better off not helping with Gotham's criminal activity. Was this an extension of that? Maybe…but still, she doesn't think that's all there is to it. By Zeus, this is all so confusing.

"If that is so, then why be so pleasant yesterday? Why invite me in the first place?"

Clark shrugs his heavily muscled shoulders. "That's why I was confused. I don't pretend to fully understand Bruce. I don't think anyone does. But the point of is that if you are serious about trying things with him, you can't let yourself be hurt or put off by his attitude. Maybe he will relent, but he may not. Think very carefully about every move you make."

"But yesterday was a good sign, was it not? I'm certain that he had fun, even if he tried to hide it." Her elation on last night's so-called success is evaporating rapidly, and she doubts her own words. Bruce did appear to enjoy her company yesterday, but did he, really? And, if he did, what now?

"I assume so. I don't know. I'm not the best when it comes to relationships. Hell, look at my own love life, the joke that it is." And just like that Bruce is forgotten and Kal goes back to his sulking, staring moodily at the monitor.

Seeing this, Wonder Woman brings her impressive willpower to bear against the encroaching thoughts about Batman. Diana slowly puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiles kindly. Her own troubled thoughts can wait for later. Kal helped her, and she will try her best to do the same. His brooding is not nearly as attractive as Bruce's anyway, she thinks to herself.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he replies petulantly, holding his head in his hands. It is funny, in a sad sort of way.

Diana knows that he does. With a bit more prompting, they launch into Kal's woes about a certain reporter, until well after lunchtime.

**~W~**

**The Siege**

**~W~**

Unfortunately, Superman's words proved eerily prophetic.

In the months following their night out in Gotham City, Diana's frustration with the Watchtower's resident billionaire kept rising. And the problem was that she did not have a good enough excuse to act on it.

As Kal predicted, Batman was avoiding her. Well, not exactly avoiding, considering they had to work together and function as a cohesive unit, but the principle was the same. She wishes it was as simple as avoidance. That she could deal with. While he was too smooth to simply pull one of his disappearing acts every time she entered the room or avoid talking to her, Diana had instantly noted a change in their dynamic.

When she first asked him about their night out, the day after it happened he had given a vague, noncommittal answer, and then chided her for being distracted during League business. Unable to deny that he was right, she held off until the team went their separate ways. As she attempted to catch up after the team meeting disbanded, she entered the corridor just six seconds behind Batman only to find it empty. She instantly knew that she would not find him again, short of taking a teleporter to Gotham. No matter, she had thought, there's always tomorrow.

Unfortunately, the following day had yielded no results, nor did the day after, nor the following week. Batman would work with her just as well as he always had, showing no signs that anything was amiss between them. However, that rare smile that she would occasionally coax out of him became even rarer.

Their banter subsided and the flirting all but vanished. That wasn't quite right, either. She would still prompt him occasionally, but where before he would respond with a snappy line with a double meaning and a vague smile, in the last few months he would simply ignore her. The few times he did respond in kind, he seemed to instantly get mad at himself, in that silent, seething way of his, as if he did something that he shouldn't have done. And then Diana figured it out.

As much as he wanted to give the impression that nothing was wrong, Diana understood that he was trying very hard to be professional with her, and nothing else. Every time she would try to talk to him on the Watchtower while not on a mission, he would answer cordially but offer little in return. Questions about the second part of their tour were blown off with one excuse or another. It was always hard to make small talk with Batman, but now she just felt silly even trying. Judging by their teammates' faces every time they saw her trying, they felt the same.

Then there was the fact that often times, Batman couldn't make it to meetings, since Gotham constantly required his presence. To his credit, when he had a serious case that needed his full attention, he notified the League in advance.

It's not like she had the time to devote to cracking Bruce. Hal Jordan's absence had strained the Justice League under the weight of Earth's emergencies. There were other superhero teams around the globe, but none as capable or well-informed as them, so they got the lion's share of the load.

Added to that, Strife had started popping up in her life again. She would not openly antagonize her, but her supposed platitudes were equally alarming to the suspicious Amazonian ambassador.

Two months of this and Diana was near her breaking point. She considers herself a patient, understanding person, but Batman's behavior was driving even her beyond her limit.

Never before had she been more grateful for Hal Jordan's arrival, not even during life or death situations. He returned, just short of three months after he left, looking more sullen than any of them had seen him before. He explained how he had helped his instructor and mentor, Sinestro, the Green Lantern of space sector 1417, repel an invasion on his own homeworld of Korugar. However, soon after that he found out that Sinestro was the dictator of his world, with unrelenting totalitarian methods. He and other Green Lanterns had brought Sinestro to the Guardians for trial and punishment. This development had obviously been harsh on Hal, who held great respect for Sinestro.

His bad mood after his return held for all of a month, during which there was blessed silence, but soon the Green Lantern was back on his usual high spirits. Barry Allen helped him a lot in this, since apparently the two were good friends from before the League's formation. Much as his behavior towards women disgusted Diana, she couldn't help but be grateful that he returned when he did. With Hal picking up the slack with the League, that left Diana with more time to figure out what she was going to do with the resident Bat.

Obviously what she was doing was not going to work. Batman was too controlled in the Watchtower, his excuses to leave too numerous. So, with her workload lightened, she tried to, as they say, up the ante. About three months after that night out in Gotham City, she informed him in no uncertain terms that she would visit Wayne Manor again, and that he'd better be there.

They had just finished their biweekly meeting in the Hall of Justice, and he was on his way to the Transporter Room, as usual. He had narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, which was as good as an agreement from him. In truth, Diana was not sure what she would have done if he'd expressly forbidden her to come. But she was positive that he wouldn't do that. His new policy was to pretend nothing was wrong, and taking advantage of that, he couldn't break his earlier word. That meant she could still come to Gotham so long as it was a strictly social call. She had been right.

Of course, she should have expected that it wouldn't have been so easy. When she visited the first time, Bruce was there, but he'd excused himself after ten minutes and left to attend to some business or another. Having his permission to stay if she wanted, she was left at the Main Hall, staring awkwardly at the spot Bruce had just vacated and unsure of what to do next. And that damn fountain was messing with her thinking. Honestly, who has a fountain _inside_ their house?

Eventually, Alfred came to her rescue, and led her to a relatively normal—statues and paintings notwithstanding—sitting room with comfortable couches, a gigantic TV, and some light reading materials nearby. He'd offered to make her a beverage or a snack, but she'd declined, instead asking him to sit and talk with her. The polite Englishman gave her a smile and complied. They had talked for a few hours. Alfred Pennyworth made for good conversation, even if he refused to call her anything other than 'Miss Diana' or 'Her Highness', no matter how many times she asked. He had a dry wit that went along fabulously with his perfect manners, and that seemed to be brought to the fore anytime the Manor's other inhabitants, past or present, were brought up.

They talked a little about Alfred's past, about England, about Gotham, Themyscira, Bruce, and a number of other things. Eventually she thanked him and left. The aging butler had given her a kind smile and implored her to not judge his master too harshly for his rudeness, and that he would 'certainly have words with him. I taught him better manners than that'. That memory always brings a smile to Diana's face.

Even if Alfred did have that talk with Bruce, it appeared to have little effect. It did help a bit, because she managed to persuade Bruce to help her choose an apartment in Gotham and order a full wardrobe, but nothing beyond that. Bruce had made it a point to mention how he would have done the same for all of his teammates, and she'd gotten the hint.

Through the following few months she would visit Gotham when she had enough time to do so, and every time Bruce would talk to her for a bit before politely brushing her off. Indeed, the difference in his behavior while out of the Batman costume was startling. He always had a good excuse, of course, but Diana knew what he was doing. He knew that she knew what he was doing. If this was a battle of wills, of patience, Diana knew she would win. She was an immortal demigoddess, she had all the time in the world. If Bruce wanted to bunker down and deny her and himself, she would lay siege until he relented. She had not given up on the hunt just yet. She had smelled blood, and as much as her prey ran, she would catch up. Truly, Artemis would be proud. Then again, sworn virgin goddess and all, maybe she wouldn't, but she digresses.

She would occasionally manage to corner Bruce and get to spend some quality time with him, but he always steered clear of matters concerning _them_, and completely closed off and came up with an excuse to leave if she brought it up.

Even if she had made only a little progress in cracking Bruce's resolve, she did have some interesting encounters while she visited Wayne Manor. Alfred was her usual company, but many times she would spend some time with Jason when he wasn't doing Robin stuff or studying. The young boy was very awkward and nervous at first, but seeing no immediate wrath from his adopted father, he slowly started to open up to her, though he never talked about the time before he was adopted by Bruce and brought to Wayne Manor.

She had also met Bruce's eldest child, Richard Grayson. One evening she was in the Manor speaking to Alfred when she saw him walk past. He had obviously emerged from Batman's underground headquarters, the legendary Batcave, as he was in full Nightwing regalia. A black, form-fitting, custom brand of Kevlar with a blue shape that converged on the chest and back from his shoulders, along with a facemask. Unlike Batman's cowl, Nightwing let his hair flow freely, the unruly black mop barely reaching his shoulders and sometimes falling in front of his eyes, an easy smile always present on his lips.

He was not surprised by her presence, and greeted her warmly, recognizing her instantly despite her civilian appearance, or simply being pre-emptively informed of her presence. He'd removed his facemask and introduced himself, smiling widely. She was very surprised at how different he was from Bruce, and even Jason.

Where Bruce was direct and serious with the occasional bout of snarky humor and where Jason was closed off, distrustful, and nervous, Dick was a positive jokester kind of person. He sympathized with her for her dealings with Bruce and told her to 'hang in there', whatever that meant. They talked for a bit while Dick waited for Alfred to do something or other, and she learned a bit about Blüdhaven and about how Bruce had bought Dick his bike when he turned eighteen.

He gave fond recounts of his time as Robin and as a member of the Titans, his childhood team, since disbanded. He asked a bit about the League, claiming Bruce was not a very good storyteller. She answered his questions as best as she could without compromising the League, and Dick laughed when she told him that it was Batman who wrote those, and indeed all, protocols. Eventually Alfred returned and Dick left, heading up to his room.

Dick was certainly an interesting person, and a dedicated hero in his own right. Though his speech patterns often left Diana confused, since he mostly used expressions that she was not yet familiar with. One time, Dick had taken notice of Jason not-so-subtly stealing glances at Diana, and instead of ignoring it like she did, he had laughed in his face. Jason had blushed crimson, and Richard had rubbed his head while saying: "Way out of your league, junior. Leave it to the bossman, he's all over it." Diana was familiar with all the words, but she was certain that it was an expression, since she had discerned no meaning from them. She paid it no mind, however, knowing that boys will be boys and that siblings tend to tease each other.

She had briefly met Barbara Gordon while on her visits, who recognized her as Wonder Woman and introduced herself as Batgirl, claiming to be a fan of hers. Though they hadn't spoken much, she liked the girl. She was a recent college graduate, with a degree in forensics psychology and the daughter of the police Commissioner, James Gordon, with whom Batman apparently had something of a partnership. She had not met the Commissioner himself, but from what she was told, he is a pleasant enough character, as equally dedicated to cleaning Gotham's streets as any of them.

As members of the, as Alfred had fondly dubbed it, 'Batfamily' came and went, Diana realized that there was more than one hidden passage and entrance to the Batcave from the manor's interior. Though she suspected certain rooms held such passages, she made no effort to find out specifically or, Heaven forbid, snoop around. Ignoring the fact that she was certain that Bruce would know, this wasn't what she was here to do. If he wanted to show her the Batcave, he would. She wasn't here for Batman, she was here for Bruce Wayne.

That's not to say that her visits were fruitless. Besides getting to know Bruce's family, there were a few occasions which made the whole effort worth it. Times that Bruce would slip, or times that she would witness a truly majestic side of him, when dealing with his family.

On one such occasion, she had visited late in the evening, hoping Bruce would be a little more malleable before patrol. Predictably, she had no such luck, and she'd ended up sitting alone in the same sitting room she had spoken with Alfred in her first visit, reading a magazine, too bored to go home just yet.

Many years later, she would be told how the whole scene began…

**~W~**

"Master Bruce, there is a matter that requires your attention."

Down in the Batcave, Alfred was addressing Batman, who was sitting in front of the Batcomputer monitors, fully dressed and ready for patrol.

"What is it?"

"Master Jason is sick with the flu. It wouldn't be at all prudent to allow him to join you on patrol tonight."

Batman didn't even look up from the terminals.

"He's a smart kid, Alfred. He knows if he's well enough."

Robin chose this time to make his presence known.

"That's telling him." He paused to let out a sickly cough. "Ready?" he asked Batman.

Said crimefighter rose from his chair and headed towards the Batmobile. Turning to look back at Alfred and Jason, he addressed his adopted son.

"Alfred is right, Robin."

Robin sagged, recognizing that what Batman said would go.

"Yes, sir," he mumbled dejectedly, staring at the floor.

"You're sidelined until you get better."

'Hmph."

Robin didn't wait to watch his father leave; he instead headed up to the Manor after tearing off his mask. He stomped his way to the sitting room where Diana was reading her magazine. Ignoring her, he sat on the couch and drew his knees up to his chest, doing a very good impersonation of Bruce's brooding coupled with teenage angst. Diana said nothing, not wanting to upset the clearly sick youngster.

Alfred appeared not long after with a bowl of soup for Jason. He set the soup on the sitting room table in front of him, then picked up the TV remote control, turning on the television and saying, "Let's see what's on the telly tonight."

Leaving the television on a channel he thought Jason might enjoy, he picked up the tray and moved to leave.

"I'm not a baby! I can take care of myself!" Jason shouted after him, distressed.

"Then I wish you _would_, Master Jason." Alfred's retort is not angry, just resigned and tired. The same voice he's using when Bruce is being unreasonable about his health.

A few minutes pass during which Jason picks at his soup, while looking gloomily at the television. Alfred had appeared at the edge of the room near a staircase and stood straight, waiting until his services were needed.

Diana was gathering her thoughts to try and cheer up the troubled teen when the unthinkable happened.

Batman- no, _Bruce- _ came into the room, without his cowl and holding his cape in his hand. Diana would have stared open-mouthed if she wasn't acutely aware of the delicacy of the situation. Bruce went and stood behind the couch Jason was at. Jason looked up at his father, but Bruce was instead staring at the television.

"Taking a night off once in a while isn't a crime, Jason."

Then he settled himself on the couch besides his son, and graciously accepted the bowl of popcorn offered by Alfred.

"So, what are we watching?" he asked, taking the remote.

Two hours later, Diana couldn't hold back her fond smile as she watched Jason sleep with a contented expression, leaning up against Bruce's shoulder and covered by his cape, as Bruce kept on watching the television and finishing off the popcorn. Bruce's eyes would alternate between the television and Jason, affection for his adopted son clear for everyone to see. Behind them, Alfred was beaming.

She couldn't wipe the smile off her face even as she bade Bruce good night, wanting to leave the family to themselves. Bruce graced her with a smile of his own, and she felt her knees weaken and a flutter in her stomach. When was the last time he had smiled at her? Their not-date, probably. Months.

Opting not to say anything right now, lest she ruin a perfectly good situation and Bruce's mood, she left. Alfred accompanied her to the door, neither of them saying what was on their minds, both sporting equally pleased expressions.

It was moments like this that Diana saw how deeply Bruce cared. No matter how he presented himself to the rest the world, Diana knew the truth. He loved his sons, he loved Alfred, he loved Barbara, he loved Gotham, and the world at large. He loved Kal as his brother, he respected his teammates, and he had a soft spot for her. Many called him inhuman, but there was no person on Earth more human than Bruce Wayne.

These were her thoughts as she flew her way to her new apartment in Gotham City.

**~W~**

That specific occasion had been two months ago. A full nine months have passed since her original tour, and Diana has not given up. Nor does she plan to. But Bruce is equally unrelenting. Has she really made any progress in the last nine months?

Yes, but not enough. It's not working, it's not enough! She has to do something else, something drastic. Either it will work and something will give, or Bruce will snap and just tell her to leave him alone. She's not sure what she'll do if he does that. Kal's words of warning still resound in her mind, even after nine months.

Today, she has a plan. This week has been quiet, no serious threat appearing and little in the way of natural disasters to keep them occupied. The team has taken to teamwork exercises and upgrading the Watchtower.

Today, she will do something. Enough of the games, enough messing around. She's had enough of his avoidance and his brush offs. She will confront him today, and he will not leave until they have resolved this, one way or another.

She watches as Batman performs the monthly maintenance on the Watchtower's hardware, he and Victor talking in hushed tones about things that she does not understand in the slightest, nor does she have the inclination to try to. She does her best to keep up conversation with Barry while keeping her attention to Batman. Superman is quizzing Green Lantern on various alien races, and Hal is only too happy to talk at length about his various encounters and dealings with them.

She notes Batman and Cyborg finishing their work and gathering the few tools they used. Batman bids goodbye to Cyborg and moves to leave. Wonder Woman catches the slight flit of his eyes towards her, and smiles.

She excuses herself from the Flash and heads towards Batman before he has time to leave the Monitor Womb.

"Batman, a word?"

Batman turns to look at her, and notes her determined expression and the fierce look in her eyes. She can almost see his mind furiously work as he figures it out.

"Fine. Come," he grounds out. He can't just ignore her in front of their teammates, and she knows it. If there is discord between the Big Three, they might as well disband the team. Bruce knows this, and Diana banked on it. The gambit worked perfectly.

She follows him out of the room, and they head to an empty briefing room near the Transporter Room.

As the door hisses closed, Batman turns to look at her, frowning. Diana is not intimidated, but she is perfectly aware that she must pick her words carefully.

"This has to stop, Bruce."

"What does?"

"Don't patronize me!" she shouts in frustration, the urge to break something rising. Her anger, accumulated over nine months, begins to spill.

"You know very well what I'm talking about."

Batman is not moved by her show of anger.

"Is this about the tour again?"

"Yes—no it's not about the damn tour!" She almost yells. "It's _you_. Stop what you're doing. Stop avoiding me, stop avoiding what we have before it's even started!" Her plan is crumbling, and she realizes that this is not at all what she had planned on saying. No matter how much she tries, however, she cannot remember what it was that she had planned to say.

"We are teammates, colleagues. I respect you. There is nothing further. Your numerous visits to my home should have made that clear by now." Though he tries to keep his tone as level as always, Diana can sense the waver in it, and it only makes her madder. His iron-hard control is slipping, but he still insists on being stubborn!

"Stop lying! You're lying to me and you're lying to yourself! We can have something, and it scares you. Well no more! We will sit and talk about this like adults." In an act of controversy, she pokes his chest; hard. A lesser man would have flinched in pain or rubbed the spot she poked, but Batman doesn't even twitch.

"There is nothing to talk about, Princess. I have made myself clear." He moves to brush past her and exit the room. The sheer nerve on that man!

Just as he passes by her, Diana catches his arm and holds him in place. She is applying enough force to stop his momentum but not enough to bruise him through his gauntlet. He turns his cowled head to look at her, and the Amazon realizes that their heads are inches apart. Her breath hitches, and for a moment she is back at the fundraiser, dancing with Bruce, their faces again only inches apart.

The split-second passes, and the moment with it.

"Let. Me. Go," he says slowly, dangerously, his voice is almost like a growl, forced out from deep inside his throat.

"No, Bruce. We will talk about this. You know I like you, and I know you like me. Why must you make this so hard, why must you confuse things so?" She is trying to be strong, but Bruce's continued rejection is crushing her. She is not so certain that he does, in fact, like her. Batman has given signs, sure, but how can she be certain when he denies it so vehemently and over so many months?

Her emotional state is in tatters. She's never felt like this in all her twenty six years. She's never before had these emotions for a man, or anyone for that matter, and she almost doesn't recognize herself anymore. She is the strongest of the Amazons, she has defeated or outsmarted gods in combat and she is one of the strongest of Earth's protectors, yet in these matters, she is no better than a teenage girl, worrying over her first crush.

Still Bruce says nothing, only glaring at the hand holding him in place. This is not an expression she can bear to see on his face right now, the frowning Batman cowl making matters all the worse.

Terrible thoughts cross her mind, as they are wont to do in a woman going through her first love, rejection, or a combination of the two. Is it her fault? Is it something she did, or something she didn't do, or something she said? Or does he really not like her in that way, and the signs have all been born of her hopeful mind? _What if Kal was wrong_?

"Why can't you at least try? What else do you want from me? Why can't I be enough?" Her voice gets progressively lower, its angry edge long since lost. She hates herself for these words, for they are the words of an insecure girl hopelessly crushing over a man. She hates herself for doing this, but she cannot stop. These are true fears, and her voice is laced with desperation as she clutches at his arm, refusing to let go. Her vision blurs with tears, and the tingling on her cheeks and wetness on her lips lets her know that she has failed to contain them all.

Bruce is left speechless, his mouth half-open, the words he meant to say forgotten. Her words make him whip his head upwards and stare at her face, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Does she really think like this? Has he made her think, what? That he doesn't consider her _good enough_? That there is something, _anything_, about her that he despises? Has he brought a woman as strong and as independent as her to such a point of insecurity and self-doubt? His guilt nearly overwhelms him, to have once again brought such a strong woman to tears. He hates himself at this moment; he hates how it is necessary that he does this. But is it truly necessary? It's taken every single fiber of his self-control to not give in over these past nine months, but has it truly been worth it?

He remembers the night of her first visit well. He started off seeing it as an obligation, a promise to be fulfilled, borne of a moment of pity on his part. As the evening went on, no one was more surprised than he when he realized that he was actually enjoying himself. He found himself having fun. _Fun,_ of all things! 'Fun' for him is a concept that died that terrible night along with his parents. It is not fun that will stop it from ever happening again, it is not fun that will stop kids from being orphaned or killed by some madman. It is neither _love_ nor _fun_ that keeps Gotham from crumbling unto itself! Gotham needs Batman, and Batman needs Bruce Wayne to be focused on his work, not on his love life.

When their not-date was coming to a close, he remembers that for a few horrifying moments he considered postponing patrol for a few hours, or not going altogether. The prospect of spending more time with Diana was too enticing. When he caught himself with those thoughts, he knew it could never happen again. He could not allow the Batman to slip just because he started having feelings for a woman, even one as formidable as Diana.

As he told Robin, taking a night off once in a while is not a crime. But this is different. If he had allowed things between him and Diana to continue and evolve, the consequences for Batman would have been cataclysmic, there is no doubt about that. It is not a matter of a few hours for a date now and then. He is intelligent enough to know how things would progress from there, if he allowed it, and it is indeed a scary prospect for him.

But she doesn't know any of this. She can only see his rejection, not the reasons behind it. And how can he explain himself to her, how can he explain in a way she can understand? This is not the same as all those months ago, when she angrily confronted him over Gotham City. This is much more personal, and he doubts she will view his reasons as anything other than excuses, anyway. She doesn't _understand_.

He had thought that Diana would eventually resign, understanding that things wouldn't work out between them, and move on. Maybe find someone else that interests her, some nice bloke from London, perhaps. The mere idea had twisted his insides, but he knew it was for the best.

That is the thought process that has kept him going for the last months, whenever she visited his home. But now, looking at the woman he admires most of all, in tears because of him, he feels guilt tear him apart from the inside. Here he is, the man hailed as the world's greatest detective, proven wrong by a woman he thought he'd had completely figured out. Yet, here they are. She has not given up, and somehow managed to turn the truth on its head to think that it's her fault. What was supposed to be a simple progression of events has spiraled out of control.

And now she is _crying_.

This is wrong. He must stop this, she must not cry anymore. He caused this, he must do something to make it stop, anything. He opens his mouth to speak, for once in his life not knowing what will come out.

"Diana, I—"

Whatever he was going to say is cut off as the personal communicator in his cowl goes off. He inwardly unleashes a flurry of curses in several languages, as he recognizes the emergency signal from the Batcave. He instantly brings his free arm to his left ear and presses the communications device in his cowl, activating it and opening the channel.

"What is it?" he hisses angrily into the device. Diana's head snaps up and looks at him, her keen hearing and their very close proximity allowing her to easily pick up Alfred's voice.

"_Master Bruce, you must come at once._" Alfred's voice is frantic and almost panicked. Diana has never heard that tone from him. Apparently it's not common, because Bruce's tone is equally frantic.

"What happened?"

"_It's Master Jason, sir. I cannot find him, or track him." _

Eyes wide, Diana immediately releases Bruce's arm as his gaze falls on her. His mouth is now set in a firm, grave line as he rushes out of the door and breaks into a run toward the Transporter Room.

He notices that Diana is hot on his tail.

"No!" he barks out. "Stay out of Gotham!"

He doesn't slow down or wait for her to say something, instead running to the nearest transporter, setting it up with deft movements of his fingers, and promptly vanishing.

Diana is left frozen outside the Transporter Room. Her vision swimming, she slams herself against the corridor's wall, her back leaning heavily against it. Tears flow freely out of her eyes as she fights to control her breathing.

She slowly slides down and ends up sitting on the floor, holding her head in her hands and forming fists in her hair. Her mind is everywhere at once. On Jason, on Bruce, on Bruce's order to not help him, on his tone, on her own stupidity, on the utter _disaster_ that was their confrontation.

She just sits there pathetically, quietly and does what she hasn't done since she was nine years old.

She hugs her knees to her chest tightly, and cries.

**~W~**


	5. Surprise Party Clown

**Disclaimer**: Any fictional character, place or situation that you recognize (and some that the vast majority of you probably won't) are owned by DC Comics and associates. I claim neither ownership nor profits from this work of fanfiction.

**Acknowledgements**: As always to my Lord and Master, Dinasis. May he enjoy the virgins I sent him. Also thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited or followed. You know who you are. Keep it up, and you might get a virgin for yourselves.

**Notes**: Remember how I mentioned weekly or bi-weekly updates, in the last chapter? Yeah, forget about that.

I don't particularly like how this chapter came out, but what can you do...

* * *

**~W~**

**~W~**

**~W~**

The Batman's greatest weapon and most defining characteristic is his intelligence. Everything he does, everything that he is, has its roots on that.

The murder of his parents is what set him on this particular path, certainly. But Bruce Wayne did not become a genius that night. The murder of his parents did not give him the ability and the tenacity to go through rigorous years of travelling and training all over the world. Martial arts, forensics sciences, investigation procedures, criminal psychology, and a myriad of other subjects studied and mastered in the span of, relatively, so few years. The murder of the Waynes provided the sole survivor with the motivation, the vision, the sense of duty, and the undertones of self-endangerment that he would need in order to become what he is today, but his intellect is what made it all possible.

If Bruce Wayne had been anyone else, things would have been very, very different. Maybe for the worse, maybe for the better. But he is not. And so, Batman was born.

His intelligence is his greatest asset, but it sometimes also provides him with unique problems. It is in his nature to analyze, over-analyze, and analyze some more. It is an integral part of his character, something he does as automatically as breathing. Everything he sees, feels and experiences gets systematically torn down and rationalized. It has saved his life more times than he cares to count, though he does keep an archive somewhere.

However, it should come as no surprise that he struggles with his own emotions and those of other people. He can certainly understand them. He knows the physics and chemistry behind them, all the minutiae actions and reactions of the human brain and its chemicals. He can think of the reasons causing them, and the consequences they will lead to.

But in doing so, he detaches himself from the essence of these emotions. He denies them, sometimes on purpose, in order to focus on the practical aspect of the world he struggles to make a better place. Anything that appears detrimental to the efficiency he seeks gets muted or locked away. This is not healthy. The Batman is balancing precariously on the edge between cold, hard logic, and smoldering, fiery emotions, just barely hidden beneath his iron-clad self-control.

His intellect comes into play again. Few people can truly understand its true extent. It allows him to compartmentalize, to detach himself from certain thoughts in order to focus on something specific with no distractions. More often than not, however, the Batman juggles a truly massive amount of different thoughts simultaneously. Problems, conundrums, subjects of interest, obligations, personal projects, criminal cases, and a plethora of other things that require the Batman's or Bruce Wayne's attention.

Prioritizing thoughts is not a new concept for the Batman. It is a vital part of what he does, as there are so many things with which to busy himself.

**~W~**

**Surprise Party Clown**

**~W~**

Which is why, by the time he had appeared in the transported pad of his personal underground headquarters, the Batcave, he had already put the last few minutes of his life on the back of his mind. He locked away the thoughts of Diana's tearful, crushed face as he left before even attempting to salvage things. He locked away the self-doubt that had been gnawing at his resolve. He locked away the crushing guilt of what he'd caused with his actions in the past few months. All of that is now but faint background noise, in light of what truly matters.

There is only one thing that matters, now. And it is not Wonder Woman, sobbing alone in the Watchtower because of him, no.

It is Jason. His adopted son.

Jason Todd, born of a petty criminal and a drug addict. Orphan. Liar, thief. Robin. His _son_.

Bruce knows that Jason is just as damaged as he himself is. It takes a certain kind of person to put on a suit and go lurking in the night in a semi-hopeless attempt to rid the world of crime. Jason's motives are less altruistic that his own, but he understands that. Jason seeks redemption in stopping crime, he seeks revenge in beating up criminals. He seeks an outlet for his rage. He sees his own face, and the face of his worthless father in every criminal that he apprehends, and as a result of that he is too vicious, too dangerous. He has almost killed people before Bruce stopped him.

It has gotten worse in the last three months. Something has brought thoughts of his past experiences back to the forefront of his mind, and it has been exceedingly detrimental to his performance in the field. Not that he is any less efficient, but he is too volatile, too brutal.

Bruce has thus opted to confine the boy to monitor duty for some time, to give him a while to clear his head and sort out of his thoughts. Dick had gone through similar stages of instability in his own teenage years, though it had not led to the same kind of results.

He could see that Jason was increasingly frustrated about being confined to the Batcave, chafing under the strain of seemingly being sidelined. Despite that, Bruce thought that it would be okay, after this phase of his life passed.

It is not the first time Batman has made a mistake. It is not the last. It will not be the one he most regrets, at the end of his eventful life. But it is one that will cause him terrible grief and self-loathing in the future, nevertheless. For all his intellect, he is but a man. His miscalculations are few, but all the more terrible in their consequences.

As he runs from the transporter pad to the glowing monitors of the Batcomputer, he spares not a glance to the massive mechanical T-Rex, posing menacingly and waiting for the unwise who may try to invade Batman's sanctuary. His focus is entirely on his butler, the fifty-something Alfred Pennyworth, staring anxiously back at him. That Alfred has lost his composure so is as sure a sign of terrible trouble as any words of explanation. Bruce can count the times he has seen the Englishman this shaken on one hand and still have enough fingers to use a fork.

"What happened?" he asks as he approaches, his voice unnecessarily but unconsciously harsh.

"Master Jason had confined himself to the Cave since yesterday. I was worried since I hadn't heard from him for some time, so I came downstairs to bring him lunch, but I didn't see him at the monitors. I looked for him in the Cave, then the rest of the manor, but didn't find him anywhere. I came back downstairs to activate the tracker you placed on him for such cases, but it's not working. Something is interfering, or he turned it off. I checked the Cave's logs and…it appears he has been gone since yesterday afternoon. As soon as I realized that, I called you."

Batman turns to the supercomputer, and his fingers expertly fly over the keys, bring up the cave's security logs of yesterday. They showed Jason staring at the screens, bored, before startling. Then he was furiously typing, working on something. A few hours later, he got up from the chair and left the Cave. Right now, none of the sensors in the manor could trace him anywhere in the vicinity of the grounds as Batman checks them.

"Sir?"

"Hang on, I'm trying to figure out why the locator I planted on him isn't working."

"He must have disabled it somehow, sir. It is obvious he wishes not to be found."

Batman shakes his head.

"That kid was always too smart for his own good."

"What are our options, sir?"

Bruce brought up the camera feeds of Jason leaving the manor in civilian clothes, carrying only a backpack with his equipment and suit.

"I've placed tracking signals on all the clothes I bought him. The computer is trying to pinpoint his location."

Indeed, Alfred could see a progress bar on one of the many monitors of the Batcomputer, a photograph of Robin above it. As soon as the bar filled, a red 'Tracking Failed' message appeared. Bruce's frown deepened, his lips thinning to a hard line.

"What does this mean, Master Bruce?"

"It means he's out of the city, Alfred. The tracking devices don't have very long range."

"None of the Batwings seem to be missing, however." Alfred noted, staring at a different screen.

"I doubt he would have gone by boat or train. He must have taken a commercial flight. I'll hack into the Airport's database and run a scan of the camera feeds from the last few hours."

Bruce worked in silence for a few minutes, and the Batcomputer hummed as it scanned the vast amount of data from Gotham's Airport.

"Why would Master Jason leave so abruptly without telling us anything, sir?"

"I don't know, Alfred. But it will be key to finding out where he's going."

As he says that, he sidelines the mostly automated search to a different monitor.

"What was Jason supposed to be doing yesterday afternoon?" Bruce asks, mostly rhetorically, even as he brings up the computers history to the forefront.

"Monitor Gotham for trouble, and notify you if anything came up."

"But we both know how bored Jason can get. He was reading news sites as well. The video showed him startle upon seeing something, and then get up and leave a while after that. If we find out what it was that he saw, we may be one step closer to finding him."

Bruce's eyes are in constant movement, following the articles and pages Jason had visited. Before leaving, Jason had left the computer to continually open new pages, so he couldn't know exactly what the last one was.

Almost two hours later, the search is still underway. The computer still hasn't finished the scan, and Batman still hasn't found anything that could have caused such a reaction from Jason.

"Sir, the computer finished the scan. There was no match. Master Jason must have used a disguise."

Bruce had been afraid of that. He'd taught Jason how to disappear, how to hide. He had personally trained him in the fundamentals of their business. But he'll be damned if he gets outdone by his own apprentice.

Suddenly, he stops scrolling down. His eyes narrow as he notices something. He stops scouring the computer's history, instead bringing up the various files.

"The computer notes that a file was received yesterday, and deleted ten minutes later."

"You think this is what caused it, sir?"

"The times coincide. Whatever it was, this is what made Jason play hide and seek."

"But, sir, don't you keep separate, automated backup drives just for such cases?"

"Yes, I'm accessing them now."

Various folders and programs appear on the screen, and Batman selects and opens an unidentified image file from yesterday. It is a photograph. In the photo, a red-headed woman is inspecting an apple.

"Oh…oh my." Alfred's eyes widen in shock as he takes in the woman.

"Indeed."

"But is she not—"

"She's supposed to be."

"Clearly, we've been misled."

"The questions is: by who?"

"Can you trace back the sender?"

Bruce was silent for a minute, save for the constant sound of the keyboard.

"Jason tried, but either stopped or failed. It's obvious that he's gone to find her. He used the photo."

As he says this, Bruce is thinking and trying out ways to crack the sender of the photo. For two hours there is no sound but the one his fingers make as they furiously type. Eventually, Batman reaches a conclusion, and draws in a harsh breath.

"Joker." He spits the word, his rage climbing and his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Sir?"

"He's used this method before. The sender is a fake website that supposedly sells humorous birthday cards. It's him."

"Is there anything in the website that we can use?"

"None that are useful, Joker isn't the technical type. Now we need to find Jason before whatever scheme Joker set up goes off. I don't like this, Alfred," he admits to his butler, his voice unusually grave.

With no further preamble, Batman rises from his chair and heads towards the impressive form of the Batmobile.

"I'm going after him."

Alfred follows, struggling to regain his trademark composure.

"Joker or Jason, sir?" Batman throws his butler a glare.

"_Jason_. But Joker's bound to be close by, too."

"But, sir, how do you know where to look? That photo could have been taken anywhere in the Middle East, or even staged." Bruce shakes his head.

"No, Alfred. I know it wasn't staged, as does Jason. I can at least narrow down the possible towns from the photo. And if I get within a few hundred miles, the tracker should start transmitting. I'm heading to the Garage." Alfred did note the capital 'G' in the way his master said 'Garage'. He knows where Bruce is headed, and why. The Batwing in the Batcave is an urban model, not meant for long travel.

Batman enters the technological marvel of a vehicle and revs it up after strapping himself in. The platform starts to revolve and rise, until it is level with the ramp that will lead out of the Cave, well away from the Wayne Manor grounds.

"Very well, sir. What do you want me to do in the meantime?"

"Keep monitoring the situation. Ask Dick to come to Gotham for the next couple of days and notify Barbara that she is to help him."

"Days, sir?"

"Yes. I'm not sure how quickly I'll be able to locate Jason, but I'm not stopping until I do."

With those parting words, the Batmobile fires up and races away, leaving the still flustered Englishman who walks back to the Batcomputer and sits himself with a wary sigh.

His eyes scan the monitors, fatigue and worry evident in his expression.

"Why didn't you tell us, Master Jason? We would have helped you…"

Shaking those somber and useless thoughts from his mind, Alfred gets back to work. There is a Wayne who needs help, and he'll be damned if he won't do all he can and more to offer it.

**~W~**

Aptly nicknamed, the Garage is a hidden facility a few miles outside of Gotham City that Batman uses as storage.

While also having several bases through Gotham City in strategic positions, the Garage is special. In it, he stores everything from case files and evidence to satellite parts and rocket fuel. It also houses the vast majority of Batman's vehicles, hence the name. Cars, bikes, planes, helicopters, and boats, there are vehicles of all kinds and sizes and for different occasions, every single one of them styled in black and with a Bat logo.

The Garage is, in itself, a cave system, spanning almost several thousand square feet underground. It has several exit and entry points, including an underground river that connects it to Gotham harbor. There is no airplane runway, but only because the Batwing technology is advanced enough to allow for hovering and vertical travel.

It is for one particular Batwing that Batman is here right now. The Garage is linked with the main Batcave through an underground tunnel, and from there the Batmobile emerges and heads towards the section with the fliers. The Garage is divided in sectors based on ground level and numerical standing.

Batman parks the Batmobile and heads towards the massive entrance of sector A-12. Inside is a single Batwing, but one much different from the usual ones Batman is seen in. It resembles a military transportation plane in size, if not design. Only many, many times more efficient, black, and Bat-shaped. It also has the added benefit of not showing up in any radar. It is big enough to fit a smaller, one-man Batwing, a standard issue Batmobile, and a more versatile version meant for harsher environments.

A ramp extends for him to use as he approaches, and automatically closes after he has gotten inside.

Batman seats himself on the pilot seat, but before he does anything else he pulls back his cowl and rubs directly into his eyes, trying to shake the pounding in his head. He needs to stay focused. An anxiety attack is not something he needs right now. The weight of the last few hours is nearly getting to him, but with the exertion of his legendary self-control, he regains his bearings, pushing thoughts of Diana and useless worry over Jason to the back of his mind. It is action that will help Jason, not thought, and that is what he should doing. With a few deft clicks, he initiates the scan of the surface above him for any bystander, watcher, or recording device. Finding nothing, he initiates take-off.

In short order, the Batplane is fully powered and the thrusters, pointed downwards, lift the plane into the air. As this happens, the ground above them separates, revealing the metallic system with only a thin layer of dirt above it. Once the hole is fully opened to fit the Batplane, it begins to rise faster until it has risen above the ground and into the evening sun. The back thrusters turn horizontal as the ground slips back into place with barely a rumble.

The Batplane blasts away with surprising speed for a machine of its size, a course already set for Saudi Arabia, where the search for the lost son will begin.

**~W~**

Half an hour after Batman left her, Diana still hasn't managed to pick herself up from the floor. Not that she's trying. Her heavy sobbing has given way to quiet sniffling, with the occasional burst of tears. It is terribly uncharacteristic of the strongest woman in the world, one would note. Diana knows this as well, and it only fuels her depression all the more. She has never, not once in her life, been reduced to such a pathetic state. Terrible wounds had not managed it, the wrath of the gods, foreign or local, had not managed it, death itself had failed. Yet with a few harsh words and a rejection, a mere mortal man manages to bring the Princess of the Amazons to her knees. She does not recognize herself anymore. Is this why her mother was so apprehensive of sending her to Patriarch's World, even if it was the will of the gods? Did she predict something like this?

It is in such a pitiful state that Superman finds her. In truth, he has been standing behind the next corner since Batman left. He has waited for a while, to see if she would recover, but is done waiting.

It is obvious by her startle that she did not hear him coming. He stops in front of her and lowers himself to rest on one knee, so as to be level with her. She barely spares him a glance through puffy, red eyes.

"Go away, Kal."

Superman ignores her, and calmly presses his hand on her shoulder in a semi-comforting gesture. She flinches, as if to shy away from the touch, but stops.

"Come on, Diana, you need to get up."

Still hugging her feet and staring at her lap, the Amazon Princess said nothing.

"Diana, this isn't like you, you need to pull it together. What if someone sees you, say, Arthur? Christ, what if _Jordan_ saw you like this?"

The notion of this steers her, because it is indeed a horrifying prospect. But it is not enough to pull her from the abyss of her mind.

"Leave me alone...Kal."

"Damn it, Diana, snap out of it." With a determined effort, Superman gently pulls her chin upwards to get her to face him. Instead of saying anything, however, he cocks his left hand backwards and gives her a resounding slap on the cheek.

It doesn't _hurt_, but Diana's eyes widen in disbelief all the same. The absurdity of it means that it takes her a few seconds to process it, seconds during which Kal just stares at her, utterly unmoved. The grief she's feeling slowly gives way to white-hot rage. The only one who has ever, ever, slapped her, enemy backhands notwithstanding, before had been her mother, and that was decades ago. To be slapped by a man is as big an insult as one can be without also being a death sentence. _How...how_ dare _he_? Her fists clench and shake, a second before she springs into motion.

With a snarl she forces Superman away, with enough force to send him flying against the opposite wall and make a sizable dent to it. A small part of her mind takes glee knowing that Bruce will be the one paying for its repair. She advances on the slightly dazed Kryptonian who is extricating himself from the Superman-sized dent on the metallic wall, and grabs him by the cuff of his suit.

She lifts him to his feet with a jerk, their heights even, and raises him even higher until his feet are no longer touching the ground, before viciously punching him in the jaw with her right fist.

"Don't. You. Dare. Slap. Me!" Every word is emphasized by another punch, her god-gifted strength forcing the near-invincible Kryptonian's head to turn sharply with the force of the incoming blows and grunt in pain. The last punch is especially powerful, the last word almost roared in her rage, as she sends Kal-El flying further down the corridor. He regains his bearings before he crashes and turns in mid-air, managing to land, if roughly, on his back rather than his face.

Seeing Kal slowly picking himself up, Diana gets a foreign sense of gratification, imagining that it is the other male part of their trinity that is picking himself up after meeting the business end of her fists.

Then she realizes several things in quick succession. She realizes that it is not Batman that she just pounded, but Superman. She also notes that he's not fighting back. Indeed, he made no move to even stop her. She sees that Superman spits a mouthful of blood before standing. Even knowing his incredible healing factor, guilt now tears into her. And lastly, she realizes that this was all part of his plan, to get her to 'snap out of it,' in his own words. The concerned look he's giving her only proves her theory. Her rage evaporates, leaving only emptiness in its wake. She cannot find it in her to feel her earlier depression. Instead, she just feels hollow, confused, and tired. So tired.

"Forgive me, Kal. I should never have hurt you." He gives her a wry half-smile, having already shrugged off whatever inconvenience her blows had given him. Thank Hera for Kryptonian physiology.

"Don't mention it, I kind of expected it, anyway." He closes the distance between them, and this time she is neither in hysterics nor in a rage. "How are you feeling?" he inquires gently. Diana indulges in a heavy sigh as she rubs her eyes, sore from crying.

"Better, thank you." Another thought crosses her mind. "Did you..." Though she trails off, Superman nods.

"I heard." He doesn't add '_it all_', but she still doesn't doubt that it would apply.

"Do you...do you think I should go anyway? I know Jason, he's a good kid. Batman may not want help, but..." She's not sure how to phrase it, but Kal understands. _If it will save a life_, she wants to say, _to hell with_ him _and his rules_.

"I don't think it's a good idea. Usually Batman has the good sense to call _someone_ for backup if he is certain that he can't do something alone. And I'm not sure how much of a distraction you two would be to each other right now."

She doesn't argue. She just wants to lay down and leave this horrible day behind her. Now that she's let it out of her system, she can think a little more clearly. She understands that she made many mistakes, pushed where she shouldn't have, and generally done a great job of getting Batman to clamp down. Trying to get Batman to change his mind about something using anything other than hard logic and cold evidence is not a good idea, she _knew_ that. Instead she did what, _cry on him_? Beg him and think that it would crumble his resolve? Pathetic. She doesn't know what he was about to say before Alfred called, but it can't have been anything good.

Maybe tomorrow someone will threaten global security, or try to pester her. Maybe Strife or War will show their ugly faces and bother her. She can think of nothing better than cracking some skulls to let out some frustration, but now is not the time. Now, she just wants to go home.

She nods at Kal's words, and starts walking to the Transporter Room, having no doubt that it will be empty.

"Thank you Kal, but I'm heading home now." She senses more than sees his face morph into a frown.

He follows her for a few steps, saying nothing. Just inside the Transporter Room door, he gently holds her arm, silently requesting a few seconds of her time. She turns her head sideways and looks at him. Though she has regained her composure and regal bearing, her red eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks beg him not to hold her for long. Kal opens his mouth but closes it again, either at a loss for words or hesitating on what he wants to say.

Eventually, he says: "I know him. And I warned you. But if you want my opinion, _don't give up_."

Now it is her turn to slightly gape at him, unsure as to a reply. Eventually she just nods her head, unable to process anything else. She will think on all this, but not today. _Tomorrow_. Now she just wants to sleep, or pound something into the ground.

Superman releases her, and embraces her in his strong arms, in a gesture of friendly affection and comfort. It is the best he can do at this point, and she is grateful for it. She returns the embrace, but eventually disengages and sets up the teleporter for her London apartment, the notion of staying in her apartment in Gotham not even crossing her mind.

She just hopes that Jason is okay.

Watching her leave, Superman battles with his own emotions. He's not sure what to feel. He feels a deep, seething anger at his friend for causing such a state on one of the strongest women he knows, but on the other hand, he understands how this came to be. Though a bit harsher than he perhaps should have been, Bruce was not cruel. The situation degenerated because of Diana's inexperience with such feelings as attraction and rejection. Remembering his own first crushes and the emotional turmoil they caused him, he adds to that the fact that Diana is a woman. _They always tend to complicate such matters_, he thinks. There is also the fact that unlike a teenager who is malleable and adapts easier, Diana is a grown woman who had never seen a man before a few years ago. But he cannot force Bruce to give in, nor would he.

The situation is pretty bad, he knows. And the worst part is that he has no idea what to do. He's not exactly the love guru of the neighborhood. He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Bruce may be his best friend, but he can be incredibly stupid sometimes. Really, who does he think he's fooling? Clark doesn't doubt that Bruce thinks that what he's doing is for the best, for whatever reason, but if this proves anything to him it's that the dark knight can be incredibly _stupid_, in his genius.

His frown returns, and his face darkens. He had promised himself to not interfere with the personal life of his friends, trusting them to figure it out themselves, but it seems like a _talk_ with Bruce is in order.

He heads back to the Monitor Womb leisurely, deep in thought.

He just hopes that Jason is okay.

**~W~**

Under normal conditions, Jason would have had no problem untying himself. Indeed, all members of the self-styled 'Batclan' are experts at escaping, among other things. Unlocking, untying, slipping, cutting, breaking, there are numerous ways out of each and every sticky situation.

It has been about four days since he first saw the photograph. Four days full of hope, a brief surge of happiness, and then agony. But he digresses. As previously mentioned, there are numerous ways for one to untie oneself from ropes holding his hands behind his back. Unfortunately, several other factors made such escape tricks unusable. His belt had been the first thing he lost. The structural integrity of the bones in his arms had followed.

It all made a sick kind of sense, really. Life had always been a total bitch to him, why did he even for a second believe that things would really turn around now?

Since he's about to die anyway, he might as well be honest with himself. He could have avoided this. From the moment that blasted photo had appeared on his emails, he should have known it had been a ruse. It was obvious, and he had been trained better than that. Failing that, he should have immediately alerted the big man. Really, why didn't he? Well, since honesty was the way to go, he'll have to go with fear. Fear and a sense of disdain, though he's not sure at what exactly.

He had found his mother. His beloved mother was alive. He was not alone, he had family. Bruce may have been like a father to him, Alfred may have been like a grandfather and Dick may have been like a brother, but this was his real mother. He wouldn't need the surrogate family that the Wayne household provided. He wouldn't need a fake family.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to gather as much intel as he could, then try to go on the search alone, removing as many traces as he could in his wake, so as to slow down the eventual search for him. He didn't doubt that Bruce would come after him, but he need only delay him. If only he'd found his mother, he'd have brought her back to Gotham, or maybe gone somewhere else completely. Bruce would have understood. He had to do this _alone_.

Pathetic, really. He thought he'd outgrown the needy child stage. Apparently not.

He had gathered as much as he could from there, deleted the picture, removed the trace he knew had been planted on him, and left. He'd disguised himself to make it even harder for his mentor to find him. A frantic search through the Middle East ensued. As Robin, he'd used every single trick that Batman had taught him to track her down. Robin just hoped he'd get there before _he_ did. He'd been gone on League business, and those tend to keep him occupied for a while, and that's what he was banking on.

The _one time_ that he is right, this has to go and happen. He would laugh at the irony of it all if his jaw bone hadn't been shattered.

It had been a trap. _Of course_ it was, of course it was a damn trap! He was just too emotional, too needy, too stupid to realize it early enough to avoid or spring it. The fucking Joker had been behind it all. As the freak came at him with the crowbar, he laughed with demented glee as he told him how he had staged it all. How he had faked his mother's death with a chemical and watched, eating popcorn as a young Jason Todd wept over what appeared to be the dead body of his mother. How he had sent him the photo to lure him here when he thought the time was right. Catherine had been dealt with early, a bullet planted in her head by the madman's goons before he started pummeling Robin with the crowbar, laughing that manic laughter of his. His mother was dead, this time for real. As he soon would be, too.

Maybe if he'd told Batman from the start, her life would have been saved. Batman wouldn't have fallen for such a rudimentary trick, _he_ would have been able to save Jason's mother and Jason himself. Another regret, another mistake that he would never be able to atone for.

Figures, to lose his only remaining family just as abruptly as he'd regained it.

But, no. Catherine was indeed his mother, but she wasn't his only family. Standing on the floor of the warehouse, body and spirit broken, Robin thinks of the people he left behind in order to go on this doomed quest.

He still remembers the first time he saw Bruce. He was much younger, and he'd just stolen from the good doctor Thompkins, when suddenly Batman appeared in front of him. To this day he isn't sure if he'd pissed himself or not, but he did what he'd always done in the face of absolute lashed out. Two seconds later, he was pressed against the Batmobile, about to be handcuffed. Doctor Thompkins had saved him from that fate, though he's still not sure how, or why. Soon after that, Bruce took him in and a bit later, he let him in on the big secret of the family business.

Alfred, Dick, Barbara. All of them had been family, in a way. Bruce...his dad. He must be so worried. _He always worries_, he thinks with an inward snort, _about everything and everyone_. He must be searching for him even now. Curse his stupidity for making it so difficult for him. God knows he'd done his best to ensure he wouldn't be found in time. Jason knows there will be no last second rescue. The bomb besides his head is ticking, even now.

With his remaining working eye he looks at the bomb. His swollen and bloodied head has fallen in such an angle as to be able to glance at it. Not a whole lot of time, but enough for a few final thoughts.

He tries to muster something, some feeling inside him other than the crushing sadness, but he can't. His whole life has been one disaster after another. The only source of light had been the life offered to him by Bruce. And he'd just up and left without so much as a word, and now he is going to die.

The certainty of his fate washes over his consciousness.

He is going to die without saying goodbye to his father. He will die without being able to say thank you, for all that his _real_ father has done for him.

He will die without saying that he is sorry.

As the bomb ticked its final second, Jason Peter Todd wished for forgiveness.

**~W~**

It had been a hard couple of days for Batman. Since leaving Gotham on the Batplane, he'd caught maybe four hours of sleep over the following two days of his search. It'd taken him almost a full day to reach a good place to begin his search. From Saudi Arabia he'd flown around the Middle East following the faint traces of Jason's tracker as well as looking at possible areas. But it was so damn vast! He'd catch an hour of sleep at most in between destinations, and he'd feed on the rations onboard. The Batplane had enough fuel for such a journey, but if it kept going for longer he'd have to stop to refuel it somewhere, and that's a nightmare he wishes to avoid.

It had been getting progressively harder for him to push back his worry. It had been over three days now since Jason was gone. And he knew Joker was behind it. The more the search dragged on, the lower were the chances of a favorable outcome. Statistically, he knew this.

But it was so damn hard! He'd taught this boy well, maybe too well. He'd been having a very hard time following Jason's path, since he needed to cross out some parts of the map, else he'd searching for weeks.

Why? Why would he go to such lengths to make this harder for him? What did he think Bruce would do? Disapprove of Jason trying to find his mother? Try to stop him? He would do neither, and he should have known that. Bruce would have helped him, they all would have. Instead, he chose to go alone, and fell prey to Joker's schemes.

Now he only hopes he is not too late. Robin is good, undoubtedly so. But he is still just a kid. Maybe with time, he'd be able to go up against big leaguers, but the Joker was so far out of his depth it was unreal.

It's been an exhausting two days. But he feels he is getting closer. The tracker has been flickering active, which means Jason is just outside of range, or at a similar distance somewhere.

Batman fixes the plane's path and shakes the sleepiness from his eyes. He cannot afford to crash now. Two hard days are not a lot, he's gone by much longer periods than that. Jason needs him, and he will be there.

The tracker suddenly spikes, and he knows he's close. It is time to find a place to land this thing. That's not a particularly hard feat to accomplish, considering the area is practically desert wastelands. He does need a solid enough surface, however. Ten minutes of search later, he's found what he's looking for. A particularly smooth rock formation, with enough space for the plane to land and for the jeep to go on its way.

Swiftly, he switches the plane's flight mode and starts slowly descending. After landing, the ramp extends again. Downing another invigorating cocktail he enters the off-road vehicle stashed on the plane's storage area. He takes a second to enjoy the roar of the engine as it revs, and then shoots out of the plane, the ramp automatically closing behind him. The vehicle is specifically designed for such rocky, desolate ground, and resembles a black army buggy more than a Batmobile, but it performs just as well as he expected it would.

The tracker mounted on the car's computer, he follows the steadily strengthening signal. Even so, it is a good two hours before anything shows up on the horizon. These two hours are spent anxiously alternating looks between the ground ahead of his vehicle and the tracking device connected to the computer. It shows that Jason should be nearby.

In the distance, he sees a building. It would have seemed strange for such a warehouse to be in the middle of nowhere, but he knows that beyond it there is town a few miles away. Quickly having the computer check, it shows that the town matches the architecture of the photograph. This must be it. The tracker seems to agree, beeping insistently.

Dread fills him, the likes of which he has not felt in a long time. What will he find inside, if anything? A mangled body? Nothing? Jason and his mother, embracing in happiness? He doubts that the latter is the truth, but he fervently hopes. This is bad. The Joker, for all his unpredictability, would certainly have something planned for such a place.

Slamming on the breaks, the buggy skids to a stop and spins to its side, the door automatically opening and Batman jumping out, already on a run towards the building.

Please let him be on time. Let him make it. Let him save his son from what would probably be certain—

The building explodes in a conflagration of flames and a cacophony of noises. Batman himself is blasted backwards, being just out of the blast radius.

The ear-shattering roar of the explosion just barely covers Batman's own roar of anguish.

**~W~**  
**  
**


	6. Heavy Rain

**Disclaimer**: Any fictional character, place or situation that you recognize is owned by DC Comics and associates. I claim no ownership, nor do I make profits from this work of fanfiction.

**Acknowledgements**: As always, to my Lord and Master, Dinasis. It is in response to his call to arms that I post this chapter.

**Notes**: Long time no see. Expect similar, or mayhaps longer periods between updates. This chapter is in actuality the first half of the original chapter, but I split it up when I thought it got too big.

Also, I lost a big part of what I had written when my computer suddenly shut down. I was so devastated that it took me a good while to write it again.

Without further ado, I present to you:

**~W~**

**Heavy Rain**

**~W~**

Batman looks up from the Batcomputer monitor. Cowl off and cape unclasped, he looks around the seemingly empty Batcave—save him—for the source of the disturbance his senses warn him of.

After a brief investigation, he rises from the chair and glares intently at a dark corner on the far side of the cave, near the display cases for the variety of Batsuits.

"Come out, Kent," he says in a low voice, no doubt in his mind the Kryptonian will hear and comply.

A faint chuckle emanates from Superman as he leaves his cover of darkness. Batman instantly recognizes it as fake, and the Kryptonian's next words only make him narrow his eyes.

"About time you noticed me. I've been standing here for hours."

Batman doesn't humor his guest with a response, though he notes to himself that the Superman detection program that he had designed specifically for such cases was obviously not cutting it.

"Get out," he commands. Kal-El only tilts his head slightly to the side.

"No," is all he offers to the flimsy command of a mere human.

"Don't make me whip out the Kryptonite," Batman threatens, to which he receives only a raised eyebrow from his superpowered friend.

"Try it," he challenges, his eyes glowing red and a faint red mist emanating from them. He is only partially bluffing. Whatever Kryptonite defenses Batman surely has on his headquarters, they are in all probably designed to incapacitate, at worst. He wagers that this is not the kind of situation that would make Batman actually use the defenses he has prepared against his friends.

There is also the fact that from this distance, he could have Bruce in a chokehold or unconscious in a fraction of a second.

Unfortunately for him, Batman has more weapons than Kryptonite.

"I'll release that you had a crush on Diana when she first showed up." Clark's hard gaze melts, to be replaced by a look of extreme annoyance, his right eyebrow twitching in irritation.

"Don't even go there. I told you that in confidence. You _promised_."

"I lied."

"Bruce, I'm serious." Said vigilante does not reply, instead meeting the alien's gaze with narrowed eyes.

Batman breaks the impromptu glaring contest, sighing darkly and sitting back on his chair, turning his back on the alien powerhouse.

"What do you want?"

"Don't play dumb with me, you know damn well what I want." The thought of the farm boy cursing would have usually been enough to bring mirth to Batman. Not tonight.

"Why wait a week to come, then?"

"You were gone for five days," Superman answers with annoyance while he approaches the Batcomputer with slow, deliberate steps.

"Why wait two days?" Though he is pretending to work, Clark knows Bruce has made no progress on the program he is tinkering with.

"I wanted to see if you'd come by yourself. I wanted to see if you'd try to fix the mess you made. Apparently not. Instead I get this...this joke of an announcement this morning. Two weeks off, Bruce? Really? Are you really such a coward to—"

"A coward?" Batman cuts him off, turning to look at him, truly incredulous. "My actions had nothing to do with cowardice."

"Did they now? Because from where I'm standing, it sure looks like you're trying your best to avoid—"

"I'm not avoiding anything," Batman grounds out through clenched teeth. He brings his fingers to rub at his eyes tiredly. After a few seconds of contemplation, he returns his weary gaze to Superman.

"I know I did not handle the situation with Diana as well as I could have, or should have. But my time off has nothing to do with that. There are matters that will require my undivided attention in the coming days."

Superman idly notes how much more worn Batman looks than usual. Batman is here, certainly, but he is missing his trademark presence, the unwavering strength that he usually weaves around him like a cloak of mystery. Instead he looks tired and sleep-deprived. There is an uncharacteristic sluggishness to his movements and words.

Looking at the man before him, Superman does not doubt his friend's words, so he tries a different approach.

"Nevertheless, Bruce, you need to do something to deal with this. Diana hasn't said anything, and she seems fine, but this will change things between you, and the team needs you both on your A game." There are more reasons why he wants Batman to patch things up after his discussion with Wonder Woman, but he knows that this is one of the few reasons Batman would not immediately scoff at.

"And what should I do, exactly? Diana is a strong woman, she'll deal fine. There is nothing further that needs to be said on the subject that won't just make things more painful for her. And you, you have some nerve showing up here and demanding solutions from me. This is partly your fault that it ended like this."

"Excuse me?" Is Kal-El's incredulous reply.

"You heard me right. You think I don't know how you encouraged her? How you spoke to her about me? You've known me long enough. Did you expect another outcome?"

"Bruce, try to understand," Superman starts with frustration as he begins pacing, his red cape flowing around him. "You're my best friend. We've known each other for years, you said so yourself. Knowing you as I do, I can tell that this is something that you need as much as she does—"

"No, it isn't." Once again he cuts him off, heightening the alien's irritation. "Diana's infatuation will pass, given time. Then some other guy will catch her fancy and she'll be happy with him. Someone who isn't me."

"Infa—are you serious? It's not simple infatuation! it's not just a summertime crush that she'll get over come September. And it's not like you don't like her just as much as she does!" He points an accusing finger at the Wayne scion. To his own credit, he doesn't miss a beat in his reply.

"This has never been about what I wanted." Bruce's voice never wavers as he speaks, as if it should be already clear. The Kryptonian throws his hands in the air.

"Damn it, Bruce, why do you do this to yourself?"

"You ask me that?" Batman challenges as he stares him dead in the eye, "You, who knows me best of all?"

This brings about a pregnant pause, while the Kryptonian considers. With an inward sigh, he concedes the point to Bruce. But he'll be damned if he gives up.

"Nevertheless, this could work, and it is something that would be good for you. The way you just run off after—"

"Jason is dead."

The simple statement makes Superman halt in his tracks, his mouth open but no sound coming forth, as he processes what he just heard. He had wondered what happened, of course. He had been nearby when Bruce got the desperate call from Alfred, his faithful butler and surrogate father figure. However, after Bruce returned and made no mention of anything, he'd thought that everything turned out okay, as they are wont to do in their line of work.

"Bruce...I'm really sorry."

His words are as sincere as his expression, and Bruce finds himself caught off-guard. He will never say it, but he wonders many times if this alien is more human than he is.

"I know, Clark. I am, too." His words are equally sincere, for once not bothering to deny, evade, or ignore his emotions. It would be a futile effort with Clark, anyway. Even had he wanted to, he is too tired and worn to put on any real effort.

Batman fists his hands in his hair, allowing himself a few seconds of wallowing in misery and regret. Superman places a firm yet comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

"It was one of Joker's schemes. Jason wouldn't have normally fallen for it, but circumstances lately made him more susceptible. The funeral will be in ten days." He doesn't look up as he speaks, his face still held on his hands. A thousand thoughts circulate his mind, the same thoughts that have plagued him since the explosion itself. Is it his own fault? Could he have prevented this? Should he have never drawn Jason into this life in the first place? Could this have happened with Dick, too? Was it responsible of him to give them this choice?

No matter how he looks at it, he cannot deny the fact that his son is dead, and a large part of the blame lies with him.

Of course, an even bigger part lies with Joker. His eyes narrow in hatred as the fiendish clown is brought to the forefront of his mind. He has not found him yet. It is part of the reason he is so tired. He has moved heaven and earth to find the Clown Prince, yet he continues to evade the Dark Knight.

Sooner or later, the clown will crawl out of whatever hole he's hiding in. And when he does, god help him, because no one else will be able to save him from Batman's wrath.

"I'll be here," Clark assures softly. Bruce shakes his head.

"Don't. We...we want this to be a family affair."

Superman can only nod in understanding. He is still shocked. He had only met Jason a few times, less than Dick. Batman has always taken care to keep both Robins away from international trouble, as long as they were under his wing. After Dick 'graduated', so to say, he got involved by himself, as Nightwing, and got introduced to different heroes. His formation and leadership of the Teen Titans had been a key part of this process. Jason had not, yet. He had seen the boy when he visited, occasionally, and that one time when Batman and Robin worked together with Superman and Flash in Central City. He'd seemed a nice enough boy, if a bit headstrong. Then again, 'headstrong' seemed to be a required characteristic for members of the Batclan.

"This changes everything, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does." Jason is not the first superhero to die in the line of duty, nor will he be the last. But for how usually heroes dance with death, they always seem to have a way out, to have an escape or a back-up plan. Though they rarely fear it, death is only a distant possibility in their minds. Robin's death, being so closely related to a hero of the highest profile like Batman, will shake up the community, not to mention the repercussions on Batman himself. Clark struggles to comprehend the mental state his friend must be in. Bruce is no stranger to loss, but no one is fool enough to believe that it gets better with repetition.

"You know we're all here for you, Bruce. The team will support you in anything you need. So will she. She can help you more than I ever could, you must see this." Batman looks up to catch the alien's eyes and shakes his head.

"No. Now more than ever I need to concentrate. Robin's disappearance will be common knowledge soon. Some people, dangerous people, are already suspecting the truth. I need to contain the situation. And I need to find the _Joker_. I appreciate your concern, Clark. But the thing I need right now is solitude."

Clark sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"That I can grant you, Bruce. If you need anything, you know where to find me. I'll see you in two weeks. Again, I'm sorry for your loss." As he says this, Superman starts hovering and levitating himself slowly backwards, to vanish back in the shadows and exit the Batcave.

Batman's eyes follow his movements in the dark. Even after Superman has left, Batman's eyes linger there, his thoughts heavy and equally filled with shadow.

**~W~**

**~W~**

_"Great. The princess of an island full of man-hating, immortal, warrior women. Because that's _exactly_ what we need."_

_"Your skill is admirable, mortal. Tell me though, why a bat?"_

_"Don't be offended, Wonder Woman. He's Batman, he does that."_

_"I have met the most peculiar group of people, mother."_

_"But, why not?"_

_"I don't believe you."_

_"Why do you refuse help that you need? Let us help. Let me help."_

_"...the other side of Gotham."_

_"There is nothing more."_

_"Don't give up."_

_"I'll make you a bet."_

_"Come on, man! You've got Wonder Babe salivating all over you. Tell me, what's your secret?"_

_"Run."_

_"I know what you're going to say, Dick. Don't."_

_"That, my dear newbie, was Wonder Woman. Stick around, and you'll see more of her around the bossman."_

_"I don't blame you for it, Bruce. But why in all hells is _he_ still alive? Why?"_

_"...this is a bad idea."_

_"Bruce...shut up."_

_"I have lived my life for others."_

_"Such an amusing mortal. Flee, pest."_

_"This is your idea of a birthday present?"_

_"This is the last chance to back off, Diana. It will be better in the long run, for both of us."_

_"I don't believe that."_

_"Rejoice, Sisters! Battle will be joined, and death will be glorious! The Elysian Fields await us!"_

_"Perhaps, Master Bruce, it is not a good idea to condemn an immortal being to eternal suffering?"_

_"Don't go back, my sun and stars. There is nothing but pain and suffering for you there."_

_"I-I—yes, of course!"_

_"She killed them! She killed them all like fucking animals and I just stood there and watched it happen as—"_

_"I know just the person."_

_"A healthy girl. Congratulations!"_

_"Strong boy, like your father. Your name is—"_

_"You're getting soft, old man."_

_"Go deal with it, Batman. I don't trust Kent not to die."_

_"What happened here?"_

_"Help us! I know you can do it!"_

_"My greatest pupil, my greatest failure..."_

_"Diana?"_

_"Bruce, I love you. Stay with me."_

_"...thank you."_

_"Bruce? Bruce?"_

**~W~**

"Bruce!"

She wakes up messily, unconsciously shouting the name as she sits up on her bed. The bed sheets, drenched in sweat, peel off her naked form as she pants in order to regain her breath from what she now recognizes was a dream.

And what a weird dream it was. Parts of it are already slipping out of her memory, as dreams are wont to do, but she can easily recall the general context. Various voices speaking one after the other, often on top of each other. Their tones differed as much as the voices themselves. Some of them she recognized right away, others were completely unknown, and others yet were somehow familiar, as though they reminded her of people she knows, but different in fundamental ways. She remembers her own voice, repeating what she had said years ago. She shudders as she also recalls the voice of her dream self, hysterically calling Bruce's name in desperation and obvious pain. That had never happened in the past.

Her musings are rudely interrupted by a woman speaking in a droll voice, as if bored.

"Already you're having wet dreams about him? You're not wasting any time, are you?"

Instantly her hand clenches around her sword, magically called to her from her wardrobe in the fraction of a second it takes for her mind to mentally contact it. As soon as the voice is heard, Diana's sword rests a bare inch from the offender's throat.

Diana glares at the woman that looks at her with an amused expression, not a single speck of fear in her eyes at the sharp weapon currently poking her trachea. Wonder Woman does not doubt who this woman is, recognizing her instantly.

Though gods and goddesses can take up whatever form they so desire, they too are creatures of habit. They have forms that they prefer to use, and no matter what visage they are using, there are still characteristics that one can use to recognize them by.

The white-blond hair that is practically glowing and the eyes that are completely white and similarly glowing are two such characteristics.

The mocking, calculating smirk is another. Only one being smiles like that, a being proficient in all forms of hunting, that sees things as prey or targets and knows how to get what it wants.

"Artemis," Diana greets dryly, not moving the sword the least bit. Off-handedly, Diana takes note of the goddess' attire. She has picked a more modern look, with a simple jeans and a T-shirt. Printed on the T-shirt is a female moon-themed warrior, wearing armor that sports several half-moons and wielding a majestic scimitar that arcs in just the right way to liken a half-moon. The warrior's shining white hair is similar to Artemis', as is the general facial structure. Curious, but ultimately not of importance.

"Diana," the goddess of the hunt and the moon offers in return, slightly nodding, and causing a drop of ichor, the blood of the gods, to run down her neck and get lost down her impressive bust.

"You should really not sneak up on people like that, you know. It could prove detrimental to your health."

"Really?" the goddess replies, stressing the word with amusement.

"Indeed. I could kill you right now. I could have killed you instinctively, before I stopped myself."

"I suppose that is a theoretical possibility," the goddess allows, as if simply humoring Diana's ego. "Now, if you wouldn't mind."

Reluctantly, Diana removes the sword from the other woman's throat, understanding that this meeting is unlikely to need the sweet loving her weapon is capable of giving.

"Why are you here?"

"Am I not allowed to visit a fellow bastard of Heaven?" she answers, seemingly innocently.

Diana rises from her bed without shame and heads to her wardrobe, speaking as she puts on underwear, a normal pair of jeans, and a red T-shirt.

"Don't test me, Goddess. I doubt that you'd want to visit after what I did to you when last we met. Perhaps you'd like me to refresh your memory?"

Artemis' slightly mocking smile and fake cheery attitude melts, to give way to a cold, almost malicious gaze.

"The events surrounding my dear brother's attempted takeover were...unfortunate. Do not think me weak because you beat me once." There is warning and also truth in her tone, Diana knows. Being a goddess, Artemis is a very dangerous and potentially lethal opponent, but Wonder Woman rather likes her chances.

"You never intimidated me, sister. And you certainly won't start now. Speak what you came here for, and begone."

Artemis sighs theatrically while rubbing her forehead and tucking a stray lock of hair.

"No patience for the niceties...ah well. I suppose we'll cut to the chase, hmm? Any guesses?"

Having already contemplated this, Diana has an answer ready.

"It must be about the dream. It was the work of your brother, was it not?"

"Ah, yes...the dream. It was more of a collaboration between him, Hypnos, and Janus, but I suppose that generally speaking, it was his work. What do you make of it?"

"Very little," Diana admits. But what Artemis revealed and confirmed was worrying. Apollo, twin brother of Artemis, when not being a selfish and overambitious bastard, was also the god of the sun and of prophecy. He had a unique vision of the future and its various variables, and a unique understanding of it, along with the power to grant parts of this vision to others.

Hypnos is a minor god dealing with sleep and dreams, a usual accomplice of Apollo. Janus is a little more complicated than that. Janus is the god of choice, though more like the concept of choice. He deals in duality, in crossroads and indecision. He is one of those gods dependent entirely on humanity. To be visited or to deal with him means that your life is, knowingly or not, at a crossroads, that an important decision is to be made or ignored, or an opportunity to arise. Really, the concept of Janus is as convoluted and complicated as it is seemingly simple.

Combining all that information with the bits of the vision that she could clearly recall, it made for a right mess.

"As was to be expected. Father wants you to know that you are entering a very important phase of your life. Danger lies ahead, and that you must be truer to the Amazon way of life than you ever were."

Diana snorts in derision at this.

"Tell Heaven that his advice is duly noted, but that _he_ especially has little grounds to speak of the Amazonian way of life."

Artemis raises her left eyebrow a little. "Bold words, Wonder Woman. Father will be angry."

"Let him be angry. You have delivered your message, Goddess. Now leave my home."

Artemis' face reverts to the playful and slightly condescending look she wore earlier, now back to more familiar grounds.

"Fine, I'll go. But before I do, tell me, sister, what will you do to fix the mess you have made with Batman? You've made quite the betting pool up on Olympus."

Indignation flows through Diana, and her eyes narrow dangerously.

"I have nothing to say to you on the matter, as it is none of your business."

"Oh? Then you wouldn't mind if I went after him myself, would you? I'm sure he wouldn't deny a real goddess."

"You will stay away from him." Diana's voice emanates command and danger with every syllable.

"Don't get territorial, sister. You've had your chance. Besides, I doubt he'd be a very hard catch right now, considering the circumstances."

"What are you talking about, Artemis?"

Artemis' melodious laughter echoes around the small apartment for a few seconds.

"You mean you really don't know? Poor Diana, you have no chance."

"Leave Batman out of your schemes, or the pain I inflicted on you last time will seem like a love tap compared to what I will do to you."

Artemis brings a delicate hand to her mouth and giggles lightly, clearly still amused, despite the very obvious and very sincere threat.

"Foolish sister. I am the goddess of the hunt. I always get what I want."

A bright flash of white, the vague shape of antlers, and Artemis is gone and Diana is alone in her apartment.

She blinks, twice. She allows her muscles to relax and her posture to drop the rigid pose, ready to spring into a fighting stance. She walks over to the bed and flops back into it, groaning at the incoming headache.

The vague threats and warnings of a goddess, and an even vaguer, semi-prophetic dream from a god that hates her, all before nine in the morning.

This is going to be one of _those_ days, she just knows.

**~W~**

**~W~**

It wasn't. At least, not the sense of specific, hero-related trouble. The days following Artemis' visit were quiet, if annoying, for Diana. She took the chance the unexpected downtime provided to catch up with her various friends all over the world, most of them in London. Since she had been living in Gotham more than London the last few months, she had neglected her London apartment and friends. Her new choice of residence had been a surprise to most them. As poor a reputation as Gotham had in America, it was even worse in Europe.

Part of the reason for the building annoyance was the fact that her friends had come to the unanimous conclusion that the only reason she would consciously choose to stay in Gotham would be for a guy, and then proceeded to try and get a name out of her. Friendly as their teasing was, it irked her that they were mostly right. Of course, she denied everything as ridiculous.

Another reason for Diana to be irritated was the fact that, apparently, she had been tearing a bloody path of gore, success and goodwill as the manager of Wayne Foundation's financial department.

She had met her three closest friends during her first and second years on Patriarch's World, before the idea of a secret identity had entered her mind. They knew she was Wonder Woman, and graciously went along with her new identity as Diana Prince when Batman set it up for her.

Deborah, Anna, and Katherine were curious as to how her secret identity managed to get into a position in Wayne Enterprises that was below only four people, but had learned long ago that as Wonder Woman, she had a lot of secrets to keep and this was one of them. Nevertheless, as friends are wont to do, they teased her about it.

She had only barely used her papers as Diana Prince after that night out with Bruce. She had been out in various cities in her civilian garb, and introduced herself as Diana Prince whenever necessary, but never in any official capacity and never under the name of Wayne Enterprises.

So she was suitably surprised when Anna, financial advisor for a company that Diana always forgot the name of, asked her about some of her recent activities while chatting. After learning that she had nothing at all to do with Wayne Enterprises, Anna laughed and showed Diana various articles on the Wayne Foundation's movements, and her lauded participation in it. There were no photos, but the work was supposedly signed in her name and the last few months have seen a steady rise in her publicity in the financial circles, as well as given birth to various rumours as to why she has not publicly appeared after that very well-covered date with Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Some of the media's theories would have made a lesser woman blush, and a teenager faint.

In retrospect, she really shouldn't have been so surprised. She already knew that Batman never does things by half, and leaves nothing to chance. She should have known that when he created a fake identity, he would make it appear as if it was not fake at all. She was not surprised that he could perfectly imitate her signature, at least.

Knowing that didn't make it okay, but it did lead to a pretty civilized conversation with Bruce, the first and only after that disastrous confrontation at the Watchtower. Also the one that lead to her current predicament.

She had called on the number she had been told led to his personal communicator, on an hour she knew he used to get some Wayne Enterprises work done in his study. It is his idea of downtime. Unless he was working on something important and Bat-related, he should answer and have some time to speak.

So it was.

"Diana," he had greeted her after picking up.

"Bruce." A short pause, as she groped around for words, hesitant to go on the offensive immediately. "How have you been?" she opted for.

"Can I help you with something?" His voice was not outright rude, but it did have the 'get on with it' vibe that she had gotten pretty used to. Well, she thought, there goes that approach.

"Yes, in fact. You can tell me why I am supposed to be a financial genius, whose work has made the papers quite a few times, when I am, or have done, nothing of the sort." If Bruce was surprised at her choice of subject or her knowledge of it, he did not show it.

"I would hardly call that work genius. The Wayne Foundation has been following a similar policy for years. It's only the fact that your name is new, that you were seen with Bruce Wayne, and that you're an attractive young woman. The press lives for this kind of thing. They like to play it up."

With a conscious effort to ignore the compliment, unsure if even he was aware of it, she focused on the objective.

"That's not the point, Bruce. You didn't have to go to such trouble. And you know I don't take credit for other people's work. Who did all this, anyway?"

"I did. I do most of the work for the Wayne Foundation. But don't worry about the credit. I always do it, but no one really takes the credit for it, reputation and all. It's useful for setting up your identity, so I figured it was a good idea to get you settled."

He was not making this any easier for her. Rather, she was starting to feel guilty that he set up this elaborate ruse and donated his own work in order to make her something that she is not. The fact that he did not ask permission to do it seemed rather small in comparison.

"I suppose all I can say to that is thank you, unnecessary though it was," she said with sincerity and not a little bit of exasperation. In a way this was sweet, she had realized. Other billionaires may have bought her a house, a plane, a boat, a diamond necklace, or other similarly useless and extravagant item. Bruce provided her with an unshakeable civilian identity that could in no way be connected to Wonder Woman. What more could a girl want?

"No thanks is necessary. I...I said I would do it, back then. So I did." This was interesting. His voice wavered, if only slightly. She could not help but notice the fact that he sounded...off, for some reason. After biting her lip in slight hesitation, she went for it.

"I suppose I should start using your gift more often then. A couple public appearances of Diana Prince should give the press what they want, right? You did promise me another night out, nine months ago. You never delivered on that." She had used this argument once or twice, during her visits. He had played it diplomatically then, citing a full schedule and the need to uphold the playboy image, which could hardly be done with a woman of Diana's caliber. The argument also lost weight the more time passed, since they both knew that after months living in the city she had learned it well enough, for a newcomer, that a tour wouldn't be much use.

She was prepared for one such answer now, as well. Especially after the last fiasco, she had expected him to be perhaps a bit more rough in his refusal than usual. Rather, Batman did not speak. A sound came, as if he started to speak but decided against it, and then he was silent again. Diana was nervously playing with a lock of her hair, waiting to hear what he had to say, resigned to the usual refusal but equally hoping for a change.

None were more shocked than she, when she got it.

"I...I guess I didn't. But I stand by what I said when last we talked, Diana. Do not look too much into it. Moreover, it can't be in the following week. There are...serious matters that need my attention." Now Diana was really spooked. Batman was unsettled by something. Batman is never unsettled. Batman despises unsettled people. What could possibly be going on that would shake him up enough to make him accept her advances, even in a similarly platonic way as that night nine months ago, and also make him sound like...like he's not in complete control of himself?

"Bruce...is everything alright?" She knows that Batman hates that question, and his answers are always pretty much various synonyms for 'fine', but she still felt that she had to ask.

Surprisingly, instead of the customary, irritated brush-off, all she got was silence at the other line. After a few seconds of this, she had called his name once, askance. That seemed to snap him out of whatever was going through his head. Such lapse in concentration was very unlike Batman, and quite worrying.

"Alright...I suppose that no, everything is not alright."

This was even worse than she thought. Batman, admitting to a problem? She could count such instances on her fingers, and none were cases she'd like a repeat of.

"What's wrong Bruce? Have you notified the team? Can I help?" She knew she was treading on dangerous grounds, but this mattered little at that moment. Batman was surprisingly silent, once again. This time Diana let him gather his thoughts.

"No. Nothing you or the team could help with right now. Rather, something you should be made aware of before you see it on television or the papers. Can you come by the manor in two days? This won't count as a tour, since we won't be going anywhere."

"Um...if you'd like me to." She had half a mind to ask him if she should dress up for the occasion, but his tone belied that this visit had nothing positive.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Yes, yes of course. I'll see you in two days. Wait, what time should I—"

_Clack_.

And that was that.

So now she sits in the Watchtower, having nothing better to do than fret over what would happen tomorrow when she visited Wayne Manor. It's not like she can't stop thinking about him. It's just that she has nothing else to do right now, and her thoughts inevitably turn to the one aspect of her life, divine trouble aside, that is still in turmoil.

Of all the times for the world to be somewhat peaceful. No terrorist attacks, no natural disasters of such scale that the League has to intervene, no alien invasions. Arthur had gone to Atlantis for his duties, Barry was in Central City, Hal was off-planet again and Superman was...somewhere, doing something. Only Viktor was on the Watchtower, monitoring and running a few maintenance procedures.

No ambassadorial duties for her, either. To visit her friends right now would be madness, since they'd pick on her mood immediately and grill her about it. Similarly, visiting Themyscira is out of the question. She'd rather not go back there if she could avoid it, anyway.

So she just stood in the Training Room, bashing robotic skulls that only reconstructed themselves anyway, and working on her technique. This was satisfying to a degree, as smashing skulls after breakfast always is, but it was no longer enough. She was bored out of her mind and her thoughts of Batman turned darker by the second. She has to do something, and now, she thinks.

She heads to where Viktor is at, staring at monitors that span most of the walls and typing rhythmically.

"Find me something to do, Viktor." Cyborg stops typing and turns to look at her, his lone surviving eyebrow rising.

"There are no emergencies or planned missions right now, Wonder Woman. Perhaps you should—"

"No," she snaps. Cyborg closes his mouth. "I need to do something, anything. There must be something for me to do. Open Batman's low priority files or something."

Cyborg throws a disbelieving look her way.

"You do know that those files are basically the team indulging Batman's paranoia, right?"

Diana sighs and rubs the eyes.

"Yes, Viktor, I know. Still, can't you find a case with decent chances of actually being real?"

"...I guess I can. Give me a few minutes to look through them." By which Cyborg means that he will scan the database with the cybernetic part of his body, since to do such a thing manually would take days.

Diana lets him work in peaceful quiet, suppressing the old habit of tapping her sword when she is impatient.

"Alright, I got something for you."

"You're the best, Viktor," Diana says in genuine happiness as she watches the relevant information appear on screen.

"Ok, so Batman has been keeping an eye on this...Mitchell Shelley for some time now. Used to be a contractor for the government in research and development. Weapons," he adds, seeing Diana's blank look. "Real hush hush stuff. He was director of something called 'The Lab'." He used his fingers for air quotes. "It's classified to hell and back but, y'know, Batman. Apparently this guy went AWOL a few months ago when some disaster happened. A few weeks after that, reports started coming in of a new metahuman using the name Mitchell Shelley. He's been a busy bee since then. There are sporadic reports of his appearance all over the place. Database places him on an airplane that crashed, then he showed up in an old house in Viceroy reportedly looking for his father, then he was found injured and treated in a hospital in Gotham City. Due to his insane ramblings, he was admitted in Arkham Asylum."

A slight pause, for a more careful perusal. "The file on him from his brief stay at Arkham has some damn weird stuff. You'll read that later. He died during a breakout instigated by a bribed cop. The body vanished from the morgue. The cop had a funny story to say after that. It's in the file, too. Next appearance is in Metropolis, in a weird fire in the middle of a police raid, then back in Viceroy, South Carolina. Various fights with weird people, including another hush hush government team Batman has titled Suicide Squad. Some buildings blown up in Viceroy where witness descriptions match the guy. He generally seems like a good guy, saving people and stuff, but there's been enough deaths and enough weird stuff that Batman wants the guy to at least explain a few things, answer to some questions, etcetera. Last was seen in Viceroy. Head there, look around, see if you can find the guy. When and if you do, assess him. Threat, ally, that kind of stuff. Even if he's neither, we need to know what happened."

Diana nods sharply, and gets up.

"Civilian garb?"

"Yes. You need to find him without causing a scene. He's proven to be quite slippery. Keep your communicator on you and you can look through the info on the way and when you're somewhere private."

"I'll change and head to Viceroy immediately, then."

"Good luck."

Leaving the Monitor Womb and Cyborg, Diana heads to the Hangar Bay. There, her Invisible Jet awaits.

**~W~**

The gates open automatically as the motorcycle approaches. Its roaring sound disturbs the peace of the gardens surrounding the Manor. Several flocks of rare bird breeds startle and fly away as the motorcycle makes its way through the road connecting the gate to the compound.

Upon reaching the stairs that lead to the front entrance, the motorcycle stops and the driver turns it off before stepping down. He removes his helmet to reveal the messy black hair and handsome features of one Dick Grayson.

He secures the helmet on the bike and walks up the stairs. The grand doors of Wayne Manor open for him, to reveal the property's butler welcoming the young man inside.

"Master Richard. It is good that you managed to come, and before the rain started."

"Sorry I couldn't come earlier, Alfred," Dick replies as they head inside, the doors closing soundlessly behind them.

"I understand that you have been busy, young master. Your presence in the Manor could prove invaluable, however."

"How is he?"

"He is as you'd expect, I'm afraid."

Dick sighs, and shakes his head. His mentor really doesn't get a break. "He's down in the cave, isn't he?"

Alfred's look speaks volumes.

"Even worse, Master Richard. Even worse."

They find him on a small, in Wayne Manor standards, living room. This living room is somewhat different from all the others strewn around the Manor. A sizable window covers a good chunk of the left wall, and there is a cozy fireplace on the far wall from the doors. Peculiar is the fact that there is only a single armchair, though comfortable, in the entirety of the room. But what is truly unique about this living room is the giant portrait hanging above the fireplace. It shows a couple and a young child. Though the setting of the portrait is obviously formal, there is a closeness that is hard to miss. The woman is sporting blond hair and a loving smile, and the man's hair is as black as his son's, a hand resting on the young boy's shoulder.

The portrait of the Wayne family is truly a work of art.

The man sitting on the armchair, glass half-full of whiskey in hand, staring hauntingly at the picture, is not.

Dick swallows a curse. Though Bruce has most probably heard the door open and their footsteps approach, he makes no move to indicate so.

"Good luck, sir." Alfred whispers to Dick, low enough that even Batman's keen senses won't hear, from this distance. Dick nods his head imperceptibly, knowing that he will need it.

The doors close with an audible click, leaving the only two Waynes alive in the same room.

"What are you doing here?" Despite himself, Dick startles. He didn't expect Bruce to initiate the...whatever this is, and though he expected harshness, this tone was beyond that. He raises an eyebrow, although he knows that Bruce won't see it. It's the principle of the matter.

"Hello to you too, Bruce."

"Get out."

"If I had a penny every time I heard that... Besides, I just got here." Dick moves to the cabinet that is on the right side of the room, partly in Bruce's range of vision, and pours himself a glass of whiskey from the bottle inside. Giving it a brief taste, he hums in contentment. Bruce always bought the best, even if he almost never indulged.

"Go back to Blüdhaven. Your work here is done." At this, Dick frowns.

"Do not talk to me like one of your Wayne Enterprises lackies. You adopted me, remember? This is supposed to be my house, isn't it?" The harsh accusation rips Bruce's gaze from the portrait to his adopted son. His eyes are bloodshot, with bags under them. Dick feels bad that he has to be so cruel to get his mentor's attention, but it is necessary.

Batman takes a deep breath, bringing his legendary self-control to bear and swallowing his pride for a few seconds.

"I...am sorry, Dick. I have not been well, lately. I don't sleep much, and when I do I get these...weird dreams. I'm not exactly how to describe them."

Dick takes pity on his mentor, and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Don't sweat it, old man. No one blames you for being out of it. The important thing now is to get back in the game." A pause. "Have you...prepared the body?" He can feel Bruce's muscles tense further beneath his hand.

"I have."

"How'd she take it?"

"About as well as you'd expect."

"And it worked alright?"

"Like magic." Bruce's dry tone betrays zero humor whatsoever.

"I'll stay here for a few weeks even after the funeral," Dick offers. Bruce nods his head in acceptance. The silence stretches for a few moments. The only sound comes from the lit fireplace and the steadily growing rainfall, outside.

"What would you have done, Dick, if I hadn't made you Robin?" Dick suppresses a groan. Here come the loaded questions. Dick is no fool, he knows very well what Bruce is thinking. He'll just have to nip that bullshit in the bud, then.

"I'd probably have done something stupid and gotten myself killed, instead of being trained by Batman and having him as my ally and mentor." This is not what Bruce is thinking, Dick knows. His patience is soon rewarded.

"You were both just children. What right did I have to bring you into this war? Jason is dead, and I made it happen." Bruce's tone is... 'deadened' is the best word Dick can think of.

"Stop that, Bruce. You didn't force us into anything. Both me and Jason had the choice. It was what we wanted to do. And we were good at it, damn it. We saved lives, we helped people. Jason would have grown into a fine man and hero, if not for the Joker's madness. Do not blame yourself. Besides, you know the kind of life Jason led before you adopted him. He was just as likely to be found dead in an alley." Batman actually flinches at these words, yet he cannot deny their truth. But Dick is not done. "You are doing good work, Bruce. Never doubt that. You took the vengeance-focused wretch that I was and made me into what I am now. You have singlehandedly saved Gotham from destruction. Don't waver. Jason loved you. Be strong for him."

Batman does not reply, and the silence stretches, but the adopted Wayne can almost feel the atmosphere changing, the air shifting. And then, something amazing happens.

"Dick. Thank you." Nightwing recognizes the gratefulness for what it is. His grip on his mentor tightens.

"Anytime, old man. Anytime."

**~W~**

Viceroy, Diana has decided, can best be described as 'eyesore'. A sprawling city in South Carolina, Viceroy is most well-known for its football team, being the headquarters and origin city of the Soder Corporation, creators, producers and distributors of Soder Cola, the world's most favorite soft drink.

Or so Wonder Woman has read, heard, and seen numerous times since coming within a few thousand miles of Viceroy. There were billboards and posters almost everywhere. The city seemed to revolve around Soder Cola, as if it ran through the inhabitants' veins.

It was unexpected but not illogical. The city had grown as much as it had only because of Soder, after all. Most of its income was produced from the various factories, shops, shares, souvenirs, and the tourists attracted to the Soder Museum or very first Soder Factory, which was still used to this day, though now fully automated.

She is not impressed. And her mood has not gotten any better. She is wearing a casual red T-shirt and a pair of jeans, her hair flowing freely, trying to blend in as much as possible. She still draws looks, but she is confident that no one suspects who she is, and if she concentrates she can ignore the urge to snap people's arms for staring.

She has a goal. She needs to find Mitch Shelley. She read the file on the way here. While extensive and brimming with sighting reports, it was equally controversial and lacking. Little concrete information could be drawn from it. That is why she is here in the first place, after all.

There is little to zero information on this guy before the whole mess started, but that can be easily explained by his status as head of a government-employed research group. What is more concerning is his status as a metahuman, the various pop-ups in random places followed by lots of explosions, and deaths of innocents since then.

Right now she is headed to the one place she might be able to pick up the trail, and maybe some more information. A home for the elderly, on the edge of the city. Mitch had been there, looking for his father, according to the employee who submitted the report Batman had hijacked. The place had subsequently become a battleground. They were not sure of the people involved, since the employees did not see much when trying to get the residents to safety and the police arrived way too late to do or see anything. There might still be clues, however, and the employees could shed some light on the character of this new meta.

Determination in her eyes, Diana widens her steps. Soon, the building comes into view. She would have probably gotten lost, but she kept getting instructions from the GPS program in her communicator. Gods bless WayneTech.

The elderly home is a big building, but clearly old. The construction crew working repairs is definitely a new addition.

She can clearly see signs of damage from a superhuman fight. She cannot examine it closer to get more clues, however, since the fight took place months ago and by now the construction crew is almost done with the repairs.

She politely returns the repair chief's wave, and heads through the front doors into the lobby. There, behind the counter is a middle-aged woman, clearly an employee. The black-haired woman looks up as Diana approaches.

"Greetings," Diana says.

"Hello. How can I help you? Are you looking for a family member?"

"In a way. I'm looking for someone. But I was so surprised when I saw the damage to the building. What happened here?"

Immediately, the secretary's sunny disposition evaporated. She nervously let out a few fake laughs, as if to ward away her concerns.

"An incident with a metahuman a few months ago. Everything is safe now, I assure you. The government has taken over the repairs, and they are almost done. We moved everyone back in last month. Now, what can I help you with? Who are you looking for, miss...?"

"Prince, please. Ah, yes, I'm looking for Mitch Shelley. I was told he visited, around the time of the incident. Can you tell me if that is true?"

This time the woman froze. Diana noticed her nervously looking around.

"Err... yes Mister Shelley visited, looking for his father. We let him know that his father had passed on, and after that he left. Is there anything else you wanted?"

One did not have to be Batman to realize that this woman, Jenny, as her name tag revealed, knew more than she revealed.

"Please, I can tell that you know more. I just—" Diana took care to make her voice break, and for her eyes to water, "I just need to find Mitch. He—I... When he left, I was so devastated. I just need to find him. Please."

It seemed to be working. Jenny's eyes widened, and she seemed to stumble over whatever it was she meant to say. Diana made a show of hugging herself and letting a couple of tears fall. That seemed to do the job.

"Listen, honey, I don't know much. All I know is that your guy Mitch showed up a few months ago looking for his father. My colleague told him that his father had passed on. He talked to an old friend of his father's, and then all I know is that we heard and saw a few explosions, and a bright white light at some point. I think...I think a few metahumans were involved. Some residents were mumbling something about weird women with guns, too. And then these government guys tell us that the repairs will be covered and that we should keep what happened to ourselves. That's all I know honey, I'm sorry." Jenny's voice is sincere. Diana considers.

"So, you can't tell me where to find him? Or at least where to look for him?"

"Well, I have heard some rumors. Your boy Mitch may still be in the city."

"Oh?" Diana visibly perks up, hopeful. Jenny smiles kindly at her.

"I have heard that he pops up occasionally on the northern side of the city. If you look there, you may learn something."

Diana smiles, sincerely this time.

"Thank you Jenny, you have been very helpful." Jenny's smile falters.

"I should let you know... I may be wrong, but I also heard that he has been seen with a woman around him." Diana understands the complications, and why Jenny was apprehensive to tell her.

"No. No Mitch wouldn't do that. I'm sure she's just a friend, helping him with something."

"Yes of course sweetie. Of course." Jenny says kindly, though it is painfully obvious that she doesn't believe it.

"Thank you Jenny. Goodbye."

"Goodbye Miss. Prince. It would be a good idea to start at the Rookwood District. Good luck."

Diana waves to Jenny on her way out. She silently prays for something good to happen to this kindhearted, if gullible, woman.

Getting to the Rookwood District is a straightforward task, thanks to the GPS on her communicator. Though it is far from the center of the city, it still comprises of tall buildings and heavy traffic.

This is where she continues her search. She goes from spot to spot, subtly inquiring about a strange, white-haired man named Mitch Shelley. A few hours later, she has achieved quite good progress. Apparently this Mitch character pops up every now and again and does normal stuff, like groceries, eating out, or doing the odd job here and there. But then there were those who swore up and down that a white-haired man had saved them from a robber, or helped them escape an accident, or even fixed their car on one occasion.

Eventually, she stumbled onto the gold mine. An old lady who claimed to have recognized the woman who is sometimes seen with Mitch.

According to Cyborg, contacted through her communicator, Kimberly Rebecki is a private investigator who has an office not far from her position.

Eager for some answers, tired of walking around, and still irritable, Wonder Woman heads there.

She finds the correct building, spotting the sign outside of it with Kimberly's name and profession.

She heads inside and finds the right door. Knocking on the bell, the door opens and she heads inside. There is little of importance in the waiting area, so she heads directly to the office.

She knocks, and a feminine voice invites her in.

Kimberly is a beautiful woman, of a slightly darker disposition and short, dark brown hair. The office is businesslike, but still retains a welcoming air, combined with the open window behind Kimberly's chair.

"Good evening," Kimberly offers.

"Good evening, Miss Rebecki."

"Please, have a seat." Kimberly motions to the chair in front of her desk. Dana inclines her head and takes the offered seat. "You don't have an appointment, but I have some time right now. What can I help you with?"

"There is a person I am looking for." Kimberly nods, encouraging Diana to say more. Chances are she gets this a lot. "A person that you may have...unique insights as to his whereabouts."

Kimberly looks confused.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

"I am looking for a man named Mitch Shelley. Do you know him?" Kimberly's eyes widen and narrow in quick succession. A small giveaway, but more than enough for Diana who is watching her like a hawk for just such a reaction.

"So you do."

"No I don't. If you're not a client, please leave." Kimberly voice rises in equal parts anger, determination, and fear.

"Please, there's no reason to make this any harder than it has to be. Just tell me where I can find Mitch, and I'll be on my way."

"Listen here, you bimbo. I don't know who sent you or why, but if I didn't tell the other two whores about Mitch I don't see why I should help you. Now leave my property."

Diana's left eye twitches. She has been searching for almost nine hours now, and has spent a hellish few days before that, and now this girl is not only being uncooperative but is also insulting her? Her eyes narrow in danger and irritation, and when she next speaks her voice is serious and emanates warning.

"You will tell me what I want to know. I mean Mister Shelley no harm, but it is in his best interests to—"

She did not have time to finish, because at that time Kimberly rapidly opened her desk drawer and pulled what was clearly a firearm. Before Kimberly could bring it to bear against Diana, Wonder Woman has sprang from her seat, smacked the weapon right out of the woman's hand in a lightning fast strike with her left hand, and caught the woman by the hem of her shirt with the other.

In a quick move, she pulls the shouting Kimberly, carrying her by the neck with her right arm to slam her powerfully, but not enough to break anything, against the wall.

'Wrong move," Diana snarls at the struggling woman.

Before she can do anything else, the back of her shirt is sliced open, along with a similar gash on her flesh that goes from one shoulder to the other. Diana hisses in pain, but doesn't let go of Kimberly. She turns her head to the left to look at the source of the attack, which is standing right outside the open window.

A white haired man with handsome, rugged features and an unshaven jaw is glaring her down. He is wearing a brown trenchcoat. And that is where normalcy ends. No feet seem to spring from under the trenchcoat, made obvious by the fact that the man is hovering several stories above the ground. Instead of feet, condensed air currents flow from inside the trenchcoat. The left arm also appears to be made of wind, and although the right arm seems normal, Diana guesses that it remain so for as long as the man wants.

The air picks up speed under the command of Mitch Shelley, making his trenchcoat flap and Kimberly's various papers to scatter all over the room.

Mitch, hair flailing all over the place, levels a terrifying glare onto the intruder who has Kim by the throat against the wall.

"Let. Her. _Go_..." he growls, air gathering in sharp blades around him.

_Yup_, Diana thinks, _definitely one of those days_.

**~W~**


	7. The Dead One, Act I

**Disclaimer**: All characters, situations and locations that you recognize belong to DC Comics and their associates. I make no profits and claim no ownership from this work of fanfiction.

**Acknowledgements**: Yay Dinasis, and stuff.

**Notes**: I finally know why _Man of Steel_ was made. It was in order to make a Clark/Lois pairing so terrible and forced that it actually leads credence to DC's asspull with Clark/Diana. Well played DC, well played.

(Go watch _Man of Steel_, nao)

_**~W~**_

_**The Dead One**_

_**Act I**_

_**~W~**_

A mighty crashing sound spoils the peaceful cacophony of the Viceroy commuters.

The passersby look up, startled, at the building from which the sound originated. They are not disappointed, as within a few seconds and a few more crashing sounds, part of the side of the building simply explodes outwards. Thankfully, the street is mostly empty and the debris small enough that no lasting harm befalls those unlucky enough to be standing near it.

The cause for the wall's explosion is a form, painfully doubled over as it is sent flying with enough force to break the sturdy cement wall and crash on the building on the opposite side of the street, breaking that wall as well. The form finally crashes to a painful stop on the inner wall of the opposite building, startling a young couple from their shared cup of coffee.

The form groans painfully, and slowly extricates itself from the debris that has piled where it has fallen. It reveals itself as a man, tall, lean and white haired.

"Damn, that stung," Mitch Shelley groans out as he painfully snaps his back to a series of popping sounds. Relaxing again, his eyes find the terrified couple, standing frozen at the far corner of the small kitchen which is now open to the street.

"Hey, folks, sorry for crashing in. Mind if I have me some of that?" he asks, pointing to the half-full carafe of coffee. The young man slowly nods his head.

"Thanks," the man offers as he pours himself a cup and takes a long, loving mouthful of hot coffee. He sighs in enjoyment, closing his eyes. "That's the stuff."

The terrified couple are already staring at the man like he is crazy, dangerous, or both. They are slowly creeping towards the door, but the man pays them no mind. His wounds are almost completely healed, and the coffee is working wonders on his pounding head. He finishes the steaming cup in one last, long gulp.

"Well, folks, sorry for breaking up your house. Now, I'll just—"

He doesn't get to finish his statement, as another blurry form slams at Mitch's side and tears through the opposite wall, already cracked from Mitch's earlier meeting with it. The young woman faints, her boyfriend quickly taking hold of her lest she falls and hurts herself.

The crashing sounds continue, until there is a familiar rumble and another wall exploding outwards, with Mitch again being sent flying. This time he lands on a park with mercifully soft soil and grass. As he painfully picks himself up, he spits blood down onto the soil.

"Sonova—" Again he doesn't have time to complete his thought, as he is forced to roll to the side to avoid the boot descending on where his head previously was. With a show of agility belying his muscled frame, he rolls to his feet. In a continues move, he dodges a sword slash by swerving his body sideways, then again from the opposite way to avoid the follow up slash.

His right hand forms itself into a blade of wind starting at his elbow, and he uses that to block the next strike. He grits his teeth at the strength behind the steel sword, much greater than his own, even enhanced by his gift.

But his is the gift of Air, and Air is slippery and ever-flowing. He reforms his arm to wrap around the enemy's blade and hold it, while at the same time his whole body turns from flesh and bone into pure air currents. Hand still holding the sword in place, he swiftly flows around his enemy and reforms behind her, intent on striking her on the back with his left hand, now another blade of wind.

That proves to be a mistake, as his opponent, growling in anger, turns with frightening speed and brings her fist in a long arc that ends with it painfully connecting with the with side of his head. He has just barely enough time to form enough to avoid breaking the bones in his head, but he is still sent flying, and the blow still hurts like a bitch.

Midair from the blow, he turns his body to air again and flows away from his opponent with incredible speed. He hears the annoying bitch following him in his flight, but he doesn't mean to escape her, merely lead her away from the city and from Kim.

God knows he is angry at her, but doesn't mean that he'll let some crazy meta chick kill her.

He is brought out of his reverie when said meta chick catches up to him—damn her speed—and attempts to hold on to him.

That proves futile, as anyone who has tried to catch air before has learned. But the woman doesn't give up. Though Mitch is given the power of air, he cannot extend his body indefinitely while in air form. The air which forms his body is decidedly denser than the air around him.

He has just exited the city's area and entering an empty expanse of dry rocks when his opponent finally figures out how to bring him out of his incorporeal state.

She flies directly above him, stops for a second, and rears both her hands back. With a mighty effort, she claps her hands with such strength that it reverberates through the air, creating a deafening sound and a sonic wave that forces him downwards with incredible speed, while straining his structural integrity.

Being already near the limits of his air gift, Mitch knows that if he hits the ground like this he will scatter too much to be able to reform, and he doesn't fancy another resurrection so soon. Not to mention the time it will take to resurrect at this empty space. His Air gift is recent, too. He is still getting used to it, definitely not the level of mastery he'd need to take down this crazy chick.

He reforms just as he is about to crash, his poor back once again bearing the brunt of the force. He feels his bones snap, but he is enhanced enough that he doesn't die, and his healing factor kicks in soon.

_Tektites_, he thinks, _gotta love them._

He clears his eyes and looks directly up, just in time to see that fucking overpowered bitch flying directly at him at what he presumes is top speed.

_Unfair_, is all he has time to think to himself.

She crashes on his chest with her foot, knee, and right fist. The fall flattens the ground around her on a five-meter radius. On that note, Mitch is glad he wasn't there when she landed, having quickly formed, sailed away and reformed a few meters away from her.

The woman snaps her head upwards to glare balefully at him. _Damn, _he thinks_, what is it with hot chicks out for my blood?_

And damn if that chick isn't hot. He'd thought that he'd hit the maximum of hot-chick-trying-to-kill-me with the Body Doubles, but this chick put even them to shame. Though his wind powers apparently have little lasting effect on the woman herself, they seem to work well enough on her clothes, to the point where they are tatters barely protecting her modesty.

The woman narrows her eyes as she notes his eyes surveying her appreciatively, and fumes even more.

"Γουρούνι!" She spits as she dashes towards him.

_Oh shit! Mitch, you idiot! Perv at the woman already trying to kill you and doing a damn good job of it, why don't you?_

Further self-cursing was put on hold in favor of dodging, as the woman was already upon him.

"Listen, lady. Can't we just—Hey!—can't we like…talk about this?" His attempt at negotiation was constantly interrupted in order to maintain the integrity of his body. They are eventually halted by the fist striking him at the jaw.

Once again he finds himself flat on his back. The fuming woman approaches him with deliberate steps, cracking her knuckles.

"You attacked me in the back, vermin. There is nothing to talk about!"

_She does have a point_, Mitch admits to himself with a mental shrug. His head is hurting and he is in too much pain to form right now. He needs a few precious seconds to recover his strength.

The woman gives him none of it, instead settling over his fallen form, grabbing his coat with her left hand while cocking her right fist back for something that Mitch is sure will be very, very painful.

_Pain is something that we generally try to avoid,_ he reasons with himself.

"You messed with the wrong _woman_, scum," the hot chick growls at him while preparing her blow.

Mitch's brain, already on overdrive with trying to figure a way out of this mess, suddenly flashes at the mention of the word 'woman'.

The fist descends on his jaw, and the hit makes his vision swim. It's not as strong as her previous hits, thankfully, or his brain would be splattered all over right now. Although she is holding back, it still hurts like a bitch.

Mitch tries to get a good look at the woman's face. Her black hair is framing her face, so it's kind of hard from his position and situation. He look at the hair itself a bit more closely as the woman rears her fist back once more. His eyes skirt lower, to her barely covered breasts, and he tries to imagine them snugly wrapped up in red, metallic armor, as he's seen in TV, newspapers, and several indecent magazines.

The woman follows his eyes, and the fist is immediately buried in his right cheek, much stronger than last time. A few teeth probably loosen.

_Holy shit_. "Wait, wait, hold on. You're Wonder Woman?" he manages to blurt out through the pain.

The fist stops, barely a few centimeters from his nose. He gulps at the tense few seconds.

Wonder Woman doesn't remove her fists, only looking at the bleeding man bellow her with suspicion and distaste.

"What is it to you, scum? You will pay for what you have done." And she rears her fist back again. Oh god, no.

"Wait, don't hurt me. I'm not who you think I am!" _Karma must really, _really_ hate me. _

The woman pauses again, though he can tell that she'd like nothing more than to pound him again. Heh, get in line, girl. Bigger, better, and all that.

"Are you not a perverted lowlife that decided it was a good idea to attack me from a blind spot?"

_Holy shit, I just got pounded by Wonder Woman! _he thinks to himself.

_And why are you particularly happy about that fact, you idiot? _he then replies. Damn, all those hits on the head must've done some damage.

"No, I mean yes, kinda. I mean, no! Look, when you put it that way there is no completely right—Gah! Wait don't hit me again!" halfway through his jumbled reply, Wonder Woman had decided that he was not being convincing enough, and instead punched him once more for good measure.

"Jesus, woman, that hurts! Will you stop doing that?" came the disoriented reply. "I only attacked you because you were hurting my friend. I'm not a villain!"

Diana regards him with suspicion.

_I got the strongest woman in the world pissed off at me. What can I say? It's a gift.  
_

"The same woman who tried to pull a gun on me?"

_Damn it, Kim!_

"She's a bit trigger happy, but she's a good girl, honest!"

Diana ignored him in favor of taking in his characteristics. Now that she paid a little more attention, she has to admit that she probably over-reacted, since this man is most probably the guy she was supposed to find.

_By Hades, I was supposed to_ not _cause a scene!_

"You are Mitchell Shelley?" she asks, voice dangerous and distrusting.

"Um, yes?" he asks, unsure if his answer will be good for his continued health and structural integrity. Diana doesn't answer, instead watching him very carefully for signs of deceit.

"That's a good thing, innit?" Mitch tries again. He can form and float away, but Wonder Woman will probably hit him again if he does that.

_I just got pounded by Wonder Woman! _he repeats to himself, strangely excited about that fact. How many people can say that they got a beating by Wonder Babe herself? In truth, quite a few, but still.

After watching him for a couple more seconds and finding no lie, Diana huffs angrily and rises to her feet, pulling Mitch to his feet with her grip on his coat. The sudden movement disorients Mitch, who flails his arms to regain his balance.

Groaning, he rubs his head. Damn that woman hits hard.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Mitchell Shelley. As does your trigger-happy girlfriend."

Mitch takes to rubbing the back of his head, trying to stave off the pain and the awkwardness and desperately trying to keep his eyes from straying from the Amazon's eyes, or fists, as it were.

"She's not exactly my girlfriend, more like my ex. It's a funny story, actually. See, what happened is—"

"I care not," Diana interrupts him, glaring the whole while. This day just keeps getting more irritating. First she was bored out of her mind, then she had to look all over an obnoxious city for hours, then some idiot girl insults her and tries to shoot her, and to top it all off, this idiot messes up her clothes! She is _this_ close to snapping and breaking something, or someone.

"You will buy me new clothes, we will collect your friend, and then we will _talk_. By which I mean that I will ask, and you will answer. Is that clear?"

Mitch gulps.

"Crystal."

**~W~**

_The Night Before_

**~W~**

Lightning flashes with a thunderous noise, and his eyes snap open. For a few seconds, all that can be heard is the rhythmic tapping of the rain against the huge window of the master bedroom.

Now awake, even though the sky is pitch black, Bruce carefully extricates himself from his bed and rises. He heads to the window with careful, deliberate steps, having no problem navigating the vast room in the darkness. He reaches the reinforced glass and stares outside, contemplative.

Maybe it is something about heavy rain that induces equally heavy thoughts? It seems completely cliché to him, but here he is, staring at the rain outside and thinking.

Lightning flashes once more, momentarily illuminating his naked form, glistening with sweat. Surprisingly, considering how he spends his nights, his body is devoid of scarring. That is not to say that he has not been wounded, for he has. Repeatedly, and seriously. He attributes his lack of serious scarring to an experimental 'cocktail' that he has been developing and drinking in recent years. As a result of it, the scars in his body have all faded to the point of being barely visible, along with a few other perks. A work in progress still, it is one of his many projects at WayneTech.

His thoughts are equally heavy as the rain, and just as dark as the cloudy sky. The funeral is soon. Before that, he has to speak to the public and lie about his son's death. Instead of being killed by a madman in the line of duty, Jason will die from a skiing accident in the Alps. A dozen witnesses are ready to testify how they were present during the accident. Bruce hates himself for it, but can see no other way.

He also needs to sort things out with Diana. Even now, he thinks of her. Has been for months, years even. In hindsight, it is obvious. He needs to deal with this. It is becoming a problem, a constant distraction that has already compromised his efficiency. Avoiding it did not work. Diana, the stubborn girl that she is, has refused to get over it and leave him alone. He needs a new plan. Nothing can interfere with his crusade, and since avoidance hasn't worked, a new solution needs to be found.

Maybe-... maybe he can indulge himself in a couple of dates. Get it out of his system, and give Diana what she wants so she stops nagging him. He is still not sure exactly what she sees in him, since he knows that she is not shallow. In the superhero community, dedication, skill, and morals are abundant, so it's not that either. Why couldn't she like the boy-scout, like all the rags say? That would have made things so _easy_.

He leans his right hand on the glass, resting it there all the way to the elbow and touching his forehead on it.

But she does not. She likes _him_. The stupid, naive girl. And by now, it is no use denying to himself that he likes her as well. Maybe his affection is not of the same intensity or passion as hers, but it is there. With all that has happened, he needs to think of something other than Jason, or Joker, or Gotham, otherwise he'll go insane. He has been completely out of whack since Jason's death. He still hasn't recovered. He is still angry, no, he is still _furious_. He is crueler in his patrols than he used to be. Instead of bruises, he now leaves broken bones.

But first, she needs to know about Jason. If she still wants the date after the funeral, she can have it.

He frowns. He will go, but he is not sure if it is a good idea. He is generally not a very sociable person, and now with his son's death so recent, he doesn't know if he can give Diana a fun time like last time. She deserves that he tries though. If only as compensation for almost a year of brush-offs and harsh words. She deserves-

A delicate, slender hand snakes around his shoulder and wraps around his torso, softly dragging perfectly polished red nails over it. Another joins it, from the other side. Soft, juicy lips touch his neck in a loving peck.

"Why are you so gloomy, Bruce? Was I not good?"

Bruce supposes that it is a testament to his messed up state that even now, fresh out of bed with another woman, all he can think of is Diana. He turns from the window to face the girl, who accommodates him with a foxy smile and wraps her hands around his neck. She is just as naked as he is, her intense violet dress abandoned somewhere near the door, along with her shoes. There is no underwear in sight.

She is half a head shorter than him, platinum blond and curvy. Round, heart-shaped face with barely a touch of make-up and full, red lips. Bruce has to admit, she is gorgeous. She has a perfectly proportioned body, fair, soft skin and the aura of sexuality that pretty, successful, and confident women have. Women who have it, and know it.

She was his date for evening, for the monthly Wayne Enterprises Gala, where all of the who's who of Gotham gathers. His usual routine is that he leaves early with the girl, making it appear as if he's taking her somewhere private, and then use some excuse to send the girl home. Thus, he has maintained his infamy as a playboy.

He cannot always dismiss the girls, however, because then word might get out and he'd be in trouble. There is also the fact that he is a man in his prime, and as such, he has needs that have to be taken care of if he is to function properly.

He plasters a fake grin on his face, puts his left hand on the girl's hip, and with his right he caresses her chin and lips.

"Not at all Angie. You were magnificent."

This one is not a lie, for once. All in all, she must have been the best lay of his life, or close to it. Angelica is very skilled, with genuine enthusiasm and passion to match. He'll have to consider her for the next time he needs to release some tension.

Even with all her assets however, he is still thinking of Diana. He wasn't doing it during the act itself, because that's just silly, but he is now. All a normal guy would be thinking about right now would be ways to get another round out of Angie, or ways to get her to marry them. Well, all a normal guy would do about now is sleep, passed out. Damn, but that girl is just as athletic as she looks. But he digresses.

Angie pouts sexily. "Better than that skank Kate that you used to date?"

"By leaps and bounds."

Angelica raises a perfect eyebrow, sporting a soft, humoring smile.

"Really? Then why're you brooding over at the window? Come back to bed Bruce, the night is still young. Or am I just too much woman for you, hmm?"

The playboy responds to the playful challenge with a low chuckle, wrapping his hands around Angie and lifting her off the ground, Obligingly, she wraps those endless legs around his torso, and her head dips down to give him a long, passionate kiss.

As they break up, Bruce responds. "Bold words, Miss Pertizzi. But can you back them up?" As he speaks, he walks back towards the king sized bed.

"I suppose we'll find out."

There is no more talking after this. Bruce finds that he has trouble fully committing himself mentally to the moment, because his thoughts keep turning to that blasted Amazon. He dares not close his eyes, lest he see her face in his mind again, and that is not fair to his partner for the night. Angie may know that this is just for tonight, but she doesn't deserve anything other than his full attention.

Tomorrow, more like later today, _she_ will come, and he will tell and show her. He knows not what will happen after this, but the situation must be resolved, one way or another. He has tried to control all the variables, he has tried to make the problem go away, but he has failed. Maybe if he tries Diana's way, it will yield better results? Or is that his hopeful side just trying to mask the fact that he is weak, and giving in? He doesn't know.

All he knows is that Jason is dead, that his self-control is in tatters, the rain is steadily pouring outside, and that Angelica's skin is soft and she herself eager.

As it turned out, she wasn't too much for him. But she had fun trying.

**~W~**

**~W~**

It takes less than two minutes after the conclusion of their fight for Diana to realize that there will have to be a change in her plan. Mitch, as it turns out, is bloody clueless about clothes, plus he doesn't have enough money on him for a full outfit.

"Not to worry," he says, trying to placate the twitching Amazon. "I'll call Kim and we can go to her place, she'll have something for you."

That sounds ... mildly acceptable to Wonder Woman. She takes extra care to watch where his eyes wander, and makes no move to cover the tattered shirt with her hands, as if daring him to take a peek. Wisely, he doesn't.

"Well, if you'd follow me." He says slowly, awkwardly. He turns equally slowly and awkwardly, looking over his back to make sure no blow is forthcoming. Then, his bottom half turns into swirling mass of air currents, propelling him in the air. Diana takes to the sky in pursuit.

Mitch reaches into his, in hindsight, surprisingly intact coat. He removes a cellphone and quickly dials. He slows down just enough to be able to speak and be understood, but their altitude was high enough that Diana wasn't worried about passersby seeing her.

"Yes, it's me. Hi." Pause. Even with Diana's acute senses, she cannot pick out the voice on the other end of the line through the wind.

"Yes, I'm ok... No, she's not dead... She's not gone, either. Are you back at your apartment? ... Good, now— ... Look, I'll explain when I get there. ... Yes, she's coming with me. Listen, I'll explain when I get there. Just open your window, we can't exactly come from ground level. ... You'll see why. ... Sorry, honey, I'm not exactly in a position to demand anything right now. ... No it's not like that, just— ... We'll talk soon, okay? ... Okay, bye." He hangs up, and replaces the phone in his inner pocket.

As they fly, the sun finally sets. Watching this, Diana realizes how tired she is. Not so much physically, but more mentally. She's been out since morning, doing excessively boring things, and when she wasn't bored she was furious.

Mitch leads them back to the area they previously left, but to a different block, more to the south of the city. There, they stop, still much higher than the rooftops. Mitch points out a building, and more specifically its sixth floor. Diana spots the open window. They descend into a steep dive, right for it, and straight into a living room.

The house seems cozy and tastefully decorated, though a tad minimalistic. Very similar to the office she previously visited. Its owner is standing at the far end of the living room, obviously waiting for them. Kim has changed into a plain white T-Shirt and jean shorts.

Whatever it was she meant to say is forgotten as she stares at Diana in confusion. More specifically, the state of her clothing.

She frowns, then turns to look at Mitch, her face darkening.

"Did you do this?" She asks him angrily. Mitch's eyebrows reach his hairline in his disbelief. He is frozen in panic for a few seconds, his eyes darting around frantically, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.

"Well, did you?"

"Well, um, I s'ppose I did. But we were kind of in a fight, I nearly died and stuff."

"Shut up!" Kimberly walks up to Mitch and gives him a resounding slap that does all the right things for his already damaged jaw.

Mitch falls backwards on a couch in surprise, holding his aching jaw and hissing in pain, spitting out indecipherable curses in the meantime. Kim ignores him, instead taking Diana by the arm and leading her down a hallway.

"Come with me, let's see if we can find you something more appropriate."

_Huh_, Diana thinks, _she may not be so bad after all._

Unfortunately, Kim was quite a bit shorter than Diana, who was herself taller than most men. Because of this, almost nothing Kim owned were large enough for the Amazon princess. Thankfully, they did manage to find a large overcoat that was way too big for Kimberly, but fit Diana just right. Kimberly mumbled something about some aunt, but Diana didn't pay much attention. She was feeling tired. She had started her search almost 12 hours ago. She'd barely had a snack a few hours ago while walking, and she'd been angry and fighting a while ago.

Returning to the living room with the coat closed tight around her, Diana was treated to the sight of a bemused Mitch trying to placate a still angry Kim.

With a brief flex of her magical powers, she calls her jet to her current position. Looking at them like this, she has to admit that Mitch doesn't seem like such a bad guy. A pig, certainly, but not the villain kind of pig. Deciding that there is little need to rush things, and that she has had just about enough drama for one day, she leaves the bickering duo to their antics and floats outside the window.

Seemingly reaching into thin air, her hand vanishes, into the open cockpit of her Invisible Jet. Retrieving a tiny device, she floats back inside.

Mitch and Kim are still at it.

"-wasted and with Carmen on your lap!" Kim's angry line was emphasized by the shaking of her fist in the general direction of Mitch's face. Mitch himself was looking annoyed, but not aggressive. It's probably an argument they've had many times so far.

"And I told you, we weren't doing anything! You just freaked out and—"

I hate to interrupt you two..." Diana cuts in. It is almost comical, how their postures don't change but their heads swivel around to look at her. "But I've seen enough for today, and there's someplace I need to be, soon. I'm leaving. But!" She cuts in again as she sees Mitch about to say something.

"We _will_ finish this conversation. You will explain your story to me, so I can close the case on the Justice League files. Keep this," she flicks the small metal device to Mitch, who catches it instinctively and inspects it. "On your person at all times."

"What is it?" Mitch asks.

"It's an elaborate tracking device. Don't dump it, or pass it off to someone else. Batman made it. We'll know."

Kimberly's eyes widen in wonderment at the mention of the Bat-themed crime fighter, and she turns completely towards Diana.

"Batman, you said? Funny you should mention him. You see, I'm kind of an investigator myself, and I was wondering if maybe you could ask him if he'd—"

"The answer is no." Diana cuts off Kimberly flatly, not at all moved by the awe in Kim's voice. Taking pity on the girl who looks crushed, she elaborates. "I mean that Batman's reply will be no. If he even pays attention beyond the first sentence. Batman is a very busy person. If it's not a matter of life and death, I think he has enough on his plate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you two to your bickering. Mister Shelley, stay in town. I'll be back."

With that, Diana flies out the window to her waiting jet, vanishing inside it and rocketing towards a hot cup of coffee and her comfortable couch.

Inside the apartment she just vacated, the two remaining people are still staring out the window.

"I think she pulled that off scarier than the Terminator." Mitch says, admiration in his voice.

"Yup."

**~W~**

**~W~**

It is raining in Gotham. That in itself is not unusual. It is one of those days, where Gotham's sky is full of dark clouds, the sun nowhere to be seen, and with rain pouring all over the city, as if trying to cleanse it of its filth.

Quietly, Diana makes her way through the Wayne Manor Grounds, black umbrella open above her, so as not to wet her dark blue business suit and skirt. Her shoes don't get wet, since the pathway is built in such a way as to prevent the formation of puddles, and her hair is knit into a tight ponytail on the back of her head, safe from the accursed water.

Upon landing her jet outside of the Manor gate she found it open, clearly expecting her. The door had closed behind her as she made her way towards the imposing sight of Wayne Manor.

Arriving at the main entrance and climbing the stairs leading to the massive doors, she sees one open as she approaches. Closing her umbrella, she is welcomed to the foyer by Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce's trusted butler.

"Miss Prince, welcome." He greets her with a polite bow.

"Alfred, how have you been?" She answers as she places her umbrella at the stand nearby.

"As well can be, circumstances considered. It is good that you have come, as it has been quite some time since your last visit."

"Yes, it has. I guess I was trying to give Bruce some space, but he invited me this time." Alfred raises an elegant eyebrow.

"I assure you Miss Prince, if there's one thing Master Bruce doesn't lack, it is space. Now, if you would follow me, I will take you to his study, in which he is waiting."

"You know I could show myself there. I know the way." Diana points out as they begin walking down the long, decorated hallways.

"So you do, Miss. But it would terribly rude of me to let you do that." Diana rolls her eyes. Some things never change.

"And how are Dick and Jason? I haven't seen then in a while, either."

At this, Alfred stumbles. Diana is shocked, she has never seen Allred so much as skip before, never mind stumble on his own two feet. For a full second, the Englishman looks at her, completely flabbergasted. Then he shakes his head, regaining his composure, but with a dark frown now marring his aged but still handsome features. He widens his step, and Diana lengthens her stride to match his pace.

"I believe I know the purpose of your invitation now, Miss Prince. Please take any and all questions to Master Bruce. He will, hopefully, explain everything."

That pretty much proves her suspicions from when she'd talked to Bruce. Bruce was not himself, he was stepping over boundaries he'd set for himself for seemingly no reason, suddenly breaks the Diana-embargo, and now Alfred's reaction? Something has happened, something terrible. Diana now expects whatever news with dread, but keeps her imagination on a tight leash. There is little point fretting over something she doesn't know yet.

They walk in silence, and soon they have reached the now familiar door. Alfred knocks, and Bruce's voice allows him inside.

"Master Bruce, I believe your guest is here. If you will require anything, I will be in the kitchens." Alfred bows to her again and departs after throwing Bruce a strong look. Curious, but ultimately not of importance.

Diana walks in, and takes a look at Bruce for the first time since that terrible argument. Only her iron will keeps her from startling. He looks, well, he looks like shit. Dark bags were his eyes, he is paler than normal, and his brow is furrowed in a constant, dark frown. She could've sworn he is wearing the Batman cowl, right then. In lieu of his usual crisp black business suit, he is in simple pants and a black shirt.

She closes the door behind her and he rises, heavily. She can catch the barest tremor on his hand before he clenched it into a fist and stops it.

In all, he looks like he just came from an unexpected visit to Hell.

"Diana, welcome." he greets her cordially, at least. But Diana can tell from his tone that the gesture is purely mechanical, the result of habit in the presence of a guest.

"Bruce. It's good to see you." It is the truth, but she only said because she couldn't, in good faith, ask him how he is.

"I see you're wearing a civilian outfit." Bruce notes, nodding at her attire.

"Yes. I figured that Diana Prince needs to make more appearances. To have a presence in Gotham, in order to cement the identity." Bruce nods agreeably with her suggestion, and walks around his desk, closer to her.

"That is a good idea. You will need a car, however. Do you know how to drive?"

"I can drive a jet. How much harder would a car be?"

"True, true. Here, then." he says and tosses her a pair of keys. Diana catches them instinctively, stowing them in her pocket.

"You know how much I despise charity, Bruce."

"Charity? Not at all. The money for the car was taken directly from your account."  
Diana's eyes widen and she stares at Bruce, incredulously.

"Account?" Bruce nods.

"Yes. The one that your salary and bonuses have been going in for the last ten months."

"But-"

"Don't argue." Bruce cuts her off, glaring at her. Diana feels her own anger bristle, but manages to hold it in. "We can talk about this later if you want." He continues. "But this is not why I invited you."

Well, Diana supposes he is right.

"Why _did_ you invite me, then?"

"You will know, soon."

With this said, he turns to the old grandfather clock that wasn't working. He reaches with his right hand opens the glass. His fingers tinker with something inside, but she is behind him so she can't see what. He retracts his hand closes the glass lid, taking a step back.

The grandfather clock starts moving to the left, revealing a sealed metallic entrance. Touching his hand on a seemingly random place on the door, it swings inside, revealing a barely lit staircase.

He turns his head back to look at her. "Coming?" he asks, and doesn't wait for a reply. He starts descending the stairs, and Diana is following him closely.

Behind her, the door closes, throwing the passageway in near total darkness. Her vision is good enough that she can see, if not very well. Bruce's vision is merely human, but she doesn't doubt that he can see much better in the dark than she does.

They exit the passageway into a huge cavern. Everything is dark, so she can't make out much, but she can feel the sheer size of the cave complex.

Ahead of her, Bruce snaps his fingers, and the caves are lit with artificial white light. A lesser woman would have gaped. She'd figured the Batcave was big, but this far exceeds her expectations. Everywhere she looks, something new catches her attention. Above her, the Batwing is hovering silently. To the far right of the chamber sits the standard version of the Batmobile. Another is nearby, neatly dismantled, awaiting for its owner to start work on it again. Rows upon rows of equipment line the walls, screens flowing with data she doesn't even understand. Settled on the rock formation of the wall, a giant penny and Joker card face each other. Doors are everywhere. She can't see the dinosaur Kal mentioned a few years ago, so she assumes it's on a different room. Indeed, many doors of various sizes lead to different parts of the complex.

It was a magnificent place, and now that she had seen it, it seemed just like the place Batman would call home.

While she stared around in wonderment, Bruce had walked over to a seemingly empty part in the center of the roughly circular room. He raises both his arms in the air like an orchestra conductor. The floor around him starts rising, bring him higher and forming a set of stairs for him to descend if he so wishes. Bruce flicks his hand and, as if on cue, images start flickering to life in front of him, balanced on nothing. It is literally computer screens on thin air. Having never seen such a display of technology, Diana stares as Bruce works on the Batcomputer, or at least a version of it.

She is once again reminded of how far from home she is, and her heart twitches.

Batman doesn't stay on the raised platform for long. His fingers fly over the hovering screen, and a section of the wall, apparently some sort of door, opens opposite them.

Lowering his hands, Bruce steps down from the pedestal.

"Follow me." He says in a dark monotone, heading into the opened room.

Dreading what she will find, Diana follows him. Entering the door, it closes behind them with a hissing sound that she can't help but find ominous.

Looking around the decently sized cave-turned-room, she figures it to be some kind of vault. One wall has row upon row of boxes, trinkets, books, and various other, probably priceless, things. She briefly spots a very ancient, very well preserved, and very much Greek sword hanging there, before her eyes kept moving. On the far end are huge crates, the content of which she can't begin to imagine. On the other side of the wall, a series of display cases of the various Bat-family suits. She doesn't know what made these suits different from the ones outside the vault, but apparently something did. The display cases are affixed to the wall, and the case was part of a larger metallic cylinder that goes from the floor all the way to the ceiling.

Batman, still refusing to speak or look at her, walked towards the display cases, stopping in front of Jason's Robin outfit. He stood there for a bit, looking up at the serenely floating suit inside, an unreadable expression on his face.

His left arm rises, only to rest lightly against the case. After a few seconds of this, Bruce's hand descends to the metal base of the case, and touches something, apparently some sort of button, before moving aside.

Part of the metal machine gives way, folds, and retreats to a hollowness inside. From the ensuing hole a long metal case slips forward, eventually slipping out of its hiding place and serenely floating between her and Batman.

Batman places his hands on the box and closes his eyes, furrowing his brow, as if steeling his nerve.

Diana's senses are screaming at her, noting the shape and configuration of the floating metallic box, but her mind keeps whispering fierce denials. No, it can't be. She must simply be paranoid, imagining the worst of any given situa—

The metal case opens with a hiss.

There, dressed in a fine black suit, lays Jason Peter Todd. His pale skin, and the damning stillness of his chest is evidence enough that her worst fears are true.

Her hands fly to her mouth as she takes in Jason's corpse. Besides the paleness of his skin and the closed eyes, never to be opened again, there is no apparent flaw on him. No sign of what killed him.

She turns to look at Bruce, having had enough of looking at the dead body of a boy she had recently gotten to know and respect.

Bruce himself is looking at Jason, his expression dark, his face stiff as marble and his eyes simmering with what Diana assumes is rage and grief.

"What happened, Bruce? Is Jason truly..." She cannot complete the sentence. In a few seconds, Bruce raises his head from his son and looks at her with the blankest and most mechanical expression she has ever seen on his face.

"Jason had a skiing accident, around the time we had our little talk in the Watchtower. He was in vacation in the Alps. The funeral will be held soon, and there will be a press conference tomorrow regarding his death."

By Zeus, he couldn't have said it in a more monotone voice if he'd been relaying weather news! Wonder Woman tried to wrap her head around what she was hearing, turning to look back at Jason. Poor, angry, so incredibly talented Jason. A skiing accident, for the Robin, the one Batman trained and approved of?

She averts her gaze again, and looks back at Bruce. He is looking at her, as if expectant, slowly blinking. She furrows her brow in thought. The timeline doesn't add up. Their fight in the Watchtower was many days ago. If Jason had the accident that same day, why wait all this time? And furthermore, if that were the truth, she doubts that Batman would be acting like ... like this. But then again, how can she know how the Batman would react to anything?

But no, this isn't Batman. This is Bruce Wayne.

"You're lying." She says through narrowed eyes.

Bruce inspects her for a few seconds more, staring in her eyes as if looking for something. Maybe he found it, because a ghost of a smile passes through his lips. "You're right." He says.

"But then ... how?" Diana asks. A heavy pause again, any sort of light from Bruce's face vanishes, to leave only the dark visage again.

"The Joker lured Jason away, using his mother. I ... I didn't make it in time. There was an explosion." Bruce's voice trembles, but doesn't break. Nevertheless, he stops speaking, as if not trusting his voice not to betray him.

But this doesn't make sense. She approaches the elaborate coffin, to peer closer at Jason's body. He looks ... flawless.

"Bruce, he hardly seems to have died from an explosion. How is this possible?"

In reply, Bruce snorts, not a trace of humor in his posture. "Seems almost magical, doesn't it? He has the appropriate damage for a fatal fall, I assure you." And that is all the answer Diana needs, or is ever going to get, knowing him.

She tenderly extends her hand to touch Jason's face, remembering the awkward teenager in the manor, as well as the talented and eager Robin.

As soon as her fingers come in contact with his skin, something weird happens. She sees, as if through a haze or a mist, a bloodied and beaten form dressed in red and black. Jason's outfit. Sobbing through a bloodied and swollen face, just inches away from a ticking time-bomb. A thought, full of regret and sorrow, flashes through her mind '_I'm sorry_'. Then, blinding light.

Diana retracts her hand from Jason's face, shaking her head to clear it of the vision and the sudden nausea that followed it. Bruce is watching her carefully, but does not ask her if something is wrong. Diana takes the time to collect her thoughts.

"What ... what will you do now?"

"Is it not obvious?" Bruce looks at her, and Diana can swear he's glaring not at her, but _through_ her. As if not seeing her. "I'm going to kill the bastard." Diana would have stared incredulously, but she is too shocked, but at the same time not, by his completely monotone statement.

"Bruce, you can't kill the Joker. You don't kill."

"I think he's earned himself an exception."

"What about your rule? Batman's morals? You can't do this Bruce."

"Watch me." Is Bruce's dry reply.

"You're not thinking straight." The Amazon princess' mind is on overdrive, trying to think, to comprehend, to do _something_. Bruce cocks his head slightly to the side, pertrubed.

"I thought that you of all people would have agreed with me. You are not generally against killing, and you didn't bat an eye when you learned how Clark killed Zod."

Diana shakes her head. "That's different Bruce. Zod was about to kill a family of innocents."

"Do you want a chart of the amount of innocent people Joker has killed over the years? Or my estimates of the numbers to follow, despite my efforts?" No, Diana really doesn't.

"But that was still true a month ago, and you wouldn't kill him then." Bruce throws her a cold look at that.

"Joker has not been idle since then, you know. He's been on a crusade to prove a point. His target has been the Commissioner."

"Mister Gordon, right?" She remembers hearing Gordon's name from time to time around Gotham. Bruce nods in confirmation. "Is Mister Gordon alright?" She asks.

"Mister Gordon is fine, since Joker wanted him healthy, at least physically. His daughter, however ... do you remember Barbara?"

And Diana does. The sweet, snarky redhead that she occasionally saw around the Manor. Batgirl. Oh, Hera.

"_No_! She's not-"

"She's not dead." Bruce cuts her off, and Diana inhales in relief. "But she was shot in the spine. The doctors doubt if she'll ever walk again."

This ... this is too much. Diana could certainly understand Bruce's hatred of the Joker, and his desire to see the man's murderous lunacy come to an end. But killing Joker would destroy _him_ more than anyone else. She knows this. _He _knows this.

She voices as such to him. His reply leaves her without a response to offer. Even after leaving Bruce to his mourning, sitting in her kitchen with a hot mug of coffee, she cannot think of something that she could have said.

_"At this point, Diana, what makes you think that I care, even in the slightest?"_

And the worst part is, Diana thinks to herself, that here is Bruce, going through a family tragedy and personal crisis, and here was I, worried over how to get him to _date_ me.

**~W~**

**~W~**


End file.
